


If I Could Walk Away From Me

by Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe



Series: Fem!Marauders [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Fem!Remus - Freeform, Fem!Sirius, Femslash, Fluff and Angst, Genderswap, Get Together, Marauders' Era, fem!James - Freeform, fem!Marauders, fem!Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 20:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12614324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe/pseuds/Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe
Summary: On the other side of the pasteboard door was the sound of Easter.  Chatter and laughter and what sounded like Gran’s pudding by the clatter of plates and the snick of the open icebox.  “I hope there are double raisins this time,” someone – probably Dad – said and Gran was probably waving the spatula at his head.  As went their Easter routine.It was under the watchful eye of the Queen - because whose loo was complete without a picture of the Queen? – when Rose Lupin realized she was not normal.





	If I Could Walk Away From Me

**1**

On the other side of the pasteboard door was the sound of Easter.  Chatter and laughter and what sounded like Gran’s pudding by the clatter of plates and the snick of the open icebox.  “I hope there are double raisins this time,” someone – probably Dad – said and Gran was probably waving the spatula at his head.  As went their Easter routine.

It was under the watchful eye of the Queen - because whose loo was complete without a picture of the Queen? – when Rose Lupin realized she was not normal.

To be honest, nothing about Rose Lupin’s life had been normal.  The first four years of her life she had lived in a caravan with her parents as they travelled the country performing as the Moonlight Singers.  And selling marijuana.  There were pictures of a white-blond Rose, completely naked and wearing some weird shells, banging on a drum.  Thankfully, Rose had managed to either burn or hide them.  Because: _seriously?_

And then the Werewolf thing happened.  Yorkshire.  Moors.  Full moon.   Basically the type of place you would take someone to if you didn’t want to find the body, which for the Lupins constituted an excellent place for a music festival.

Thankfully, one of the Lupin’s customers was a pensioner who had turned his own animal curio collection into a museum that charged 50p admission.  One of those places with stuffed animals with patchy fur and fossilized scat.  He was able to intercede when it turned out the Ministry - oh yes, werewolves _were_ real - knew werewolves existed and wanted to institutionalize Rose at Fair Isle with other _dark beasts_.  It was at that juncture that Rose realized that her parents not only bought and sold marijuana, but they were also smuggling guns for the IRA.  

So Rose spent one night every month in a Napoleonic bunker – they just don’t make buildings like they used to – off the coast of the North Atlantic.  

Oh, and Uncle Scaddy was a wizard.  Maybe a Radagast on the LoTR scale, tho.

But through none of this did Rose ever feel terribly abnormal.  So she was a werewolf.  And at eleven it turned out she was a witch, which was actually brilliant because if she hadn’t been Rose would have died after the bite in her formative years.  The only downside were all the Rhiannon jokes – Mum loved Stevie Nicks – and having to live away from the fam for nine month stretches.  Or the magic scars that wouldn’t go away no matter what.  

But that was alright, because she roomed with posh bastards who went from grudging friends to besties.  And there hadn’t been any midnight pitchforks.  And while superhuman strength and super healing powers (except for cursed scars) would have been a better tradeoff for someone who actually liked to, well, exercise or play quidditch or something.  She could deal.  She lucked out with some brains.  And, honestly, Rose was never going to be a beauty anyway, no matter how much Seren tried to tell her she was completely punk rock.

Which left Rose sitting on the toilet seat in her Gran’s loo being pitied – it honestly felt like pity – by Queen Liz as she held onto a sanitary napkin that in all probability she would never need.

Mum had handed it to her in a brown paper bag about an hour ago.  With a conspiratorial wink.

As it turned out, her cramps had nothing to do with _becoming a woman_ and everything to do with the rabbit she had somehow eaten on the 4th.  Like bones and skin and raw rabbit.  As you sometimes do.  When you’re a werewolf.  Rose didn’t want to walk out of here without having passed the bar.  Her Mum had said it just like that: _You’re a woman now, my love_.  In front of everyone, because that’s just what the Lupins do.  Embarrassing or not.  Thankfully, Grandda had a hearing aid that he never wore and Dad was the type to go up to teenage sales clerks and ask for recommendations on the best product for _your average yeast infection_.   _And not the bread yeast_.  Yeah, he’d done that.

And it was important because Rose was 17-years-old.  

And didn’t she have enough things abnormal about her?  “ _Are you there, Merlin_?”  Of course he wasn’t.  This wasn’t Hogwarts and there was only Queen Liz who really didn’t look to be going anywhere soon.  She would always be in her 20s – probably menstruating for a decade – watching various Lupins do their business.

“Am I going to walk out of here a failure to womanhood?”  Rose asked herself, six-feet-something of legs jumbled up to fit in the cramped loo.  She had popped up another couple of painful inches during the year and had probably hit her limit.  Hopefully.  She suddenly had a lot of sympathy for the werewolf who did her in.  She was probably a seven-foot-tall non-menstruating dark creature who had to take to the moorlands to avoid her mum who had made a moon cake (completely serious) to celebrate.   

Did no one get the irony?

So Rose did what she had to do.  She used one of Grandda’s shaving razors to cut her finger and left her mark on the napkin.  It healed before she left the loo.

And she ate the fuck out of that moon cake.  Because she was a werewolf.  And was always starving.

**2**

“Moony come over here,” this from Seren, who was a miserable git when she was suffering her _woman’s time_ , which was what she called it.  If she had to refer to it at all.  “I’m cold.”  Seren who was tiny, usually was anemic, so Moony – who always ran hot – would climb into bed with her.  After she collected her toast and tea, run up to the hospital wing for potions, and just basically became an errand runner for about four days every month.

“Why don’t you ever ask Jane to help you?”

“Merlin’s teat,” Seren was posh as fuck, but had the vocabulary of a sailor, “She’s spare and knobby.”

“I am not!”

“I’ll wither away to nothing.  The husk of a very beautiful girl with very nice hair.”

“You are the laziest person I have ever met in my life.”  Rose snorted.  She was in the midst of Arithmancy.  But they both knew that she was going to go over there and make the ultimate sacrifice.  As Seren turned and kicked and refused to go still until Rose threatened her life.  Which they both knew she wouldn’t actually do.  

It was sort of a thing they did.

So Rose ran down for toast and tea – “Get me a treacle tart when you’re down there,” Jane yelled as Rose left – and down to Pomfrey for the hot pink potion that was the mainstay of more than half of Hogwart’s inmates.  And then tried to read her Arithmancy book while Seren wiggled and kicked and then said, rather petulantly, “Well, aren’t you going to pay attention to me?”

“I’m a glorified body heater, Pads.  I’m not going to forego my life’s ambitions to hear about who you’re snogging or your hair.”

Jane and Pris made eye-contact.  And rolled their eyes.

“Are you even my friend?”

Rose sighed, trying not to let Seren see she was grinning already.  “No, not really.”  Seren tried to push her off the bed.  But it was a lost cause.  Rose had about six inches and thirty pounds of muscle on her.  “I just put up with you because I’m very fond of dogs.”

“And because I’m so beautiful.”  Seren yawned and then tucked closer.

“Well, you’re something anyway.”  And Rose was grateful that she was strong.  It made it a lot easier to hold the arithmancy book up with one hand for hours.  

“What’s the tab now?”  Pris asked, scratching something out on a piece of parchment.  

“Fourteen pounds of chocolate.”

“You know she’s never going to pay up.”  Jane smiled, backhanding a hank of wayward black hair off her face.  “I’ll pay you – in cold hard galleons – if you turn her hair green.”

“How much?”

“It’s worth at least twenty,” Pris noted.  She was rather mercenary when it came to barters.  Jane, who often got the bad end of them, had once sourly noted that she should have been a Slytherin.  To which Pris had cannily responded:  _but Gryffs are so much more gullible._

Rose looked at Jane.  “Alright.  Twenty galleons.”

“What shade?”

“Lime, I think.”

And so it was done.

 

**3**

“Where have you been sleeping?”  Pris asked, dropping her books on the library table Rose had marked for the year.  Being bigger than other girls - and a lot of the boys - had its perks.

“Are you going to rat me out, my Muroidian friend?”

“Probably not.  I need some help with Charms.”  Pris was usually pretty good at Charms.  “Well, theory anyway.”

“ _Hominis revelio._ ”  Nothing but the visible.  “Alright.  The Shrieking Shack.”

Pris shuttered.  “But there’s no heat.  It was freezing last night.”

“Yeah.  It was pretty nice, actually.  So what don’t you get about nonverbals?”

“Outside of not being able to do them?”  They both laughed.  “So Henry Corner asked me out.”

“I’m going to assume then that we’re talking about charms other than magical?”

“No, I need help with nonverbals.  But I also needed to talk to someone who wasn’t going to give me shit about Henry Corner.”

“He’s a Fifth Year, right?”

“Yeah.  Thus the crux of my issue.”

“I mean.  I’m assuming that if you like him and he likes you it’s not really an issue.”  Rose had never dated anyone.  And outside of the academic process of appreciating someone for conventional attractiveness, had never really  _liked_ someone like that.  “Isn’t that how it works?”

“Usually,” Pris said, sort of twirling her charms book around rather than opening it.  “But he’s a Fifth Year.”

“I’m going to assume now that what you’re really asking is whether Prongs and Pads are going to take the piss out of you for falling passionately in love with a younger man.”  Pris nodded.  “So, I’m not going to lie to you.  That is undoubtedly going to happen.”  

“I know.”

“And they’re right shits when they start on that.”

“Is that why you’ve never dated anyone?”  Pris asked suddenly, the book stopped twirling on the table.  “Because of Prongs and Pads?”

Rose snorted.  “I just haven’t really been into anyone.”  That felt pretty honest, actually.  And it felt slightly liberating to say it out loud.  

“What about Diggory?  We all agreed that he was good looking.”

“He was good looking.  But he did not pass the Seren Test.”  The Seren Test, a time-honored tradition, had everything to do with a questionnaire, surveying all of a crush’s previous conquests, and then going with a gut feeling that she described as the “fluttery feeling.”  Rose was pretty sure it was hormones.  

It honestly seemed like a lot of work for a snog or two.  Which is what Rose assumed relationships were.  As Seren was the only one to have any as yet.

“No offense, but the thought of going where Pads went before is sort of… gross.”

“None taken.  I don’t disagree with you.”  Pris finally opened her book and parchment appeared from somewhere.  “But I think you should do it.  Go out with Henry Corner, I mean.”  


**4**

It wasn’t until June that Rose first noticed it.

She had pulled her sorry self out of the hospital bed (that should have a plaque with her name on it) for a quick visit to the loo.  Afterward, as she stepped out to wash her hands, she looked up at the glass.  She had done a number on her neck, grateful that she hadn’t accidentally decapitated herself.  You couldn't actually see the jaw bone anymore on her cheek.  It didn’t look like it was going to scar, which was a nice change.  She had scars on her nose and scars on her right cheek.  She guessed they were unsightly - it had come up in conversations a time or two or three - but she sometimes forgot about them.

But this time, she was struck by how angular her face was.  

The image she had in her mind was of a sharp faced girl with skinny but feminine features.  In the light - which, in truth, was rather foul - her face had gone more geometric.  Her jaw was slightly wider.  Her nose had lengthened.  She looked more serious, more angular.  More aggressive.

It was almost as if she were seeing herself under a translucent mask.  Parts of her: the shape of her eyes, her mouth, the _Rose_ -ness that she was used to seeing - when she gave it any thought - were still there.  

Maybe there were internal scars?  Like cracking and remaking and unmaking had caused changes inside.  Rose had always been rather pragmatic.  It was quite likely that this would be Rose now.  A somewhat masculine featured doppelgänger with rather threatening eyes.  She opened them a bit wider and that seemed to help.  

It was also slightly unnerving, actually.

Another - unasked for - change that fell on Moony Lupin.

She crawled back into bed and contrary to the morass of thoughts in her head, she fell asleep right away.

 

**5**

Rose spent most of the Summer at Gran’s.  Mum and Dad had decided to take the show to Europe and Rose just didn’t feel like folding herself up in their caravan.  And there were three full moons to think about.

She had a summer job in town, bagging groceries, and spent a lot of time just walking around.  Rose liked to walk – usually for miles and miles at a stretch – and sometimes would camp out by herself in some farmer’s field trying to not set the tent on a lamb patty.  She thought a lot about life and her future – almost certainly at muggle university, but who knew.  She enjoyed the campfires and swims and the owls from Jane and Seren and Pris.  And Evans, who was having some sort of an existential crisis about NEWTs.  

By the end of July she had come to some fledgling Rose truths (or theories that she needed to prove or disprove).  She didn’t really feel like she was hitting the feminine mark.  Probably because she was a _dark creature_ all the time and not just on the full moons.  Which made her wonder if she was like something else?  Could you be that?  There were animals who could shift genders, right?  Like Hyenas.  And chameleons could shift their colors.  Maybe werewolves were like that?  Or was this a Rose thing that had nothing to do with the werewolf thing?  She had been only Rose for so short a time, she wasn’t even sure if she could remember it.

She owled Pomfrey, who seemed like the best person to ask, and then sort of let it sink in.  Changing one’s conception of self was a pretty serious thing.  But she supposed it was easier for her because she’d done it a few times now.

 _Moony, know thyself_.

One day she woke up and asked Gran if she would shave off her hair.  “Getting tired of it, eh?”  She hadn’t questioned it, just pulled out the clippers and went at Rose’s long hair.  “I don’t blame you.  If I thought mine would grow back, I’d do the same.”  It felt weird for a while, but as it filled in, at least on top, Rose got used to it.  And she rather liked it.  For one thing, she didn’t have to fight with her tangles.  And there was less neck cramping from the weight.

She put on a pair of her dad’s worn cords once – they were of a like height, although she was much leaner – and then started wearing them around the farm.  And on walks.  She graduated to a flannel she resized through the magic she was now allowed to do at home.  And for Sunday dinners towards the end of August, she wore a tie to dinner.  Grandda didn’t even notice, but Gran did.  “Anxious for school, eh?”

“Something like that.”

 

**6**

Pomfrey’s response came towards the very end of Summer on tissue thin paper carried by a very ruffled owl that had clearly been rated for international travel.  Rose dragged it into the Queen’s Cupboard, breaking the seal with her knees against the brown floral wallpaper.    
  
_Lupin –_  
  
_I’m sorry I haven’t responded sooner.  I’ve been in Japan visiting friends.  I just received your letter and I wanted to address your very serious questions._  
  
_Due to the unique nature of your condition, there are many things that I do not know.  I am ashamed to admit that you are the very first lycanthrope I have ever interacted with, let alone had the pleasure of knowing and treating.  I wish you did not have to endure such things._  
  
_To this end, I have consulted with an old friend who would like very much to meet you next term.  Healer Smethwyck has been on the faculty of St Mungo’s for the past forty years. She has worked primarily in the Dai Llewellyn Ward. I thought that we could run a full set of diagnostic charms and see what we could make of it._  
_  
I will stress that being a teenager – which I can say with much authority over these last twenty years – is a very difficult time.  It is a time of great hormonal upheaval coupled with the Delphic_ nosce te ipsum _, wherein the concept of self is evolving.  It may not be particularly comforting, however take heart that you are almost certainly not alone._

_I hope that, for your mental health, you have someone to talk to.  (Rather than an old woman)._

_I will see you in September._

  
_P._  
  
Rose wasn’t immediately sure whether she was relieved or offended that Madame Pomfrey was consulting with another Healer regarding her question.  Rose had been a werewolf for all of the six years she’d been at Hogwarts and no one – save Snape (the bastard) and the Marauders – knew she was one.  She wasn’t worried about being outed, per se.  She was on the dark creature registry, although sealed until she left Hogwarts.  There was no place for her in the Wizarding world post-graduation.  
  
She was more concerned with the trusted confidant thing.

Her parents had accepted her as a werewolf – well, they sort of had to after she’d had a go at the chickens – and had accepted that she was a witch.  And that when Grandda had found his dentures and told them his Mum had been a witch, too, so it was a family thing.  Like eczema.  “ _Never had a wet nappie, did I?  Skin like butter, I had.”_

She couldn’t even begin to imagine what Jane, or Pris, or Seren would think.  They were her friends - her best friends - but she found it hard to open up to people.  Although she didn’t mind if they opened up to her.  Her friends had never questioned it and she wondered how they would even react if she suddenly came out with intimate revelations.

And what would she say now?   _I know I’m a werewolf and a witch.  And my career prospects are dismal.  But I also think I’m not really a girl_.  “Maybe Pomfrey is right,” she conceded to Liz, who was – as always – indulgent with her attention.  Although in some lights, judgy.  “Maybe this is a normal thing that all people go through while trying to sort out their life.”  
  
If Liz, inanimate and implacable, had one piece of advice to bestow it was always to keep a stiff upper lip.    
  
It worked for almost every situation.

 

**7**

Before she went back to school, Gran pulled her aside and gave her an heirloom pocket watch.  “I’m sorry I didn’t know about those wizarding traditions in time for your birthday.  So I wanted to give you this.  Since you’re an adult.”

“This is really…”  What?  For a second all emotional neurons were blown.  And then, “This is really, really nice, Gran.”

“Well, if you break it I’ll bury you in the field.  You may be a werewolf and all, _Longshanks_ , but you still have to sleep.”  And then it got serious when Gran touched her cheek – which was a real stretch as Gran was not quite a metre and a half – and sort of petted it.  “You know I love you.  No matter what, right?”

And Rose wasn’t sure if she was talking about being the daughter of gun runners (which she hoped Gran didn’t know about), the lycanthropy, being a witch, or … other things.  But maybe it was all of it.  “I know.”

“Now let’s get your werewolf arse fed.  I made two pies because I knew you’d finish the first before I even got to it myself.”  

And like that, it was gone.  

 

**8**

Rose really wished she’d had a camera when she met up with the Marauders on the platform of 9 ¾.  They were such hoodlums that very little shocked them.  Particularly after the whole lycanthropy thing.  But she had apparently managed it.

“What the fuck happened to your hair?”  That was Seren who was as immaculate as ever in a floral swing dress with a lace collar and occasionally the bottom curve of her arse.  Ridiculous as always.

Jane ruffled what was left of it, with a lopsided grin and a… Head Girl badge.  “Don’t listen to Princess Pads.  I like it.”

“Who the hell made you Head Girl?”

“I dunno, Moony.”

“Every year I become more and more convinced of Dumbledore’s heavy drug use.”

Pris didn’t even notice anything and ducked out to go visit Henry at some point, but Seren was giving her very strange looks on the train up.  Which were hard to ignore as they were alone in the carriage until Jane finished her Head Girl duties and Pris got tired of sharing spit with Henry.  “I’m sensing that my lack of tresses disturbs you, Pads.”  

“On some level, yes.  But I can’t figure it out yet.”

Rose shrugged.  “Well, I’ll wait anxiously for your proclamation.”  The fact that there _could_ be a proclamation made the palm of Rose’s hands sweat.  Seren had something to say about everything.  But this was different.  It was serious.  It touched on her self-doubt in a way that was private.  And unspoken.  So Seren wouldn’t know she was doing it.

They sat as they often did, Rose listening to Pads complain about her family and her brother, Reg, and some boy she’d met while in Italy.  Until finally that thing in her sort of coalesced and worked it’s way up her chest, into her trachea, and finally into the compartment.

“Pads?”  Seren stopped talking pretty much instantly and turned her grey eyes towards Rose’s face.  As she was currently laying with her head in Rose’s lap, it was rather hard to not notice that she was staring at her.  “Would you not call me… Rose… anymore?”

Seren gave her puzzled look - what Rose… Moony considered a puzzled look anyway - and scrunched up her nose.  “Moony, to tell the truth, I had completely forgotten your given name.”

Moony laughed.  “Well, your dress is too short.”

“Do you think so?”  And there was something very naughty about the way she smiled.  Which was very Seren and so particularly threatening.  “I wore it especially for you to tell me it was too short.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the least.  Although I would have suspected the Blacks were wealthy enough to afford more fabric.”

Seren clucked, her tongue vibrating against the palate of her mouth.  “It is _because_ we’re so wealthy that I can get away with wearing it, of course.  Who would stop the daughter of the Earl of Black from wearing what she wanted?”

“I would.”

“Yes, I suppose _you_ would.  But I never listen to you anyway.”  Seren, rather ineffectual due to her size disadvantage, pushed Rose and things _felt_ normal as they pondered the likelihood of Prongs making it through the year.  The consensus: not likely.  They rolled up to Hogwarts with Seren Black – bitching finished – asleep in Moony’s lap.  With Moony’s robe over her bottom half.  For decency’s sake.

They said the more things changed…

 

**9**

“Ok, Evans definitely said hello to me,” Jane said at breakfast some weeks later.

“Well, he is Head Boy, so I think it’s part of his contract.”  Seren, as usual, was a bear in the morning.  She didn’t understand why summoning House Elves to the dorms was not permitted.  “It’s barbaric to be up this early.”

“I think it’s bracing,” Jane said with her Potter smile.  She loved mornings.  And messing with Seren.  “Moony?”  Moony had snatched a quiet moment with both Jane and then Pris to ask them to not call her Rose.  Jane had made a solemn vow.  Pris had said _I forgot you even had another name_.  She was beginning to think they may be in trouble come NEWTs.

“Absolutely,” although she had to swallow a yawn which made the agreement less convincing.

“You are the worst people ever.”

“Probably,” Jane agreed.  “But at least something didn’t climb up our asses this morning.”

Seren gave her the finger before drowning her sorrows in tea.  Pris came over a moment later.  “So Hogsmeade.”

“What of it?”  The quartet had created a map in Fourth Year, lovingly poured their illicit knowledge into it, and pretty much went to Hogsmeade whenever they wanted.  Although Jane and Seren often had to use disguises.  They were still not particularly welcome everywhere.  

“Well, I’m going with Henry.  I just wondered if you wanted to meet up and get a butterbeer at some point.  It being our _penultimate_ penultimate Hogsmeade visit.”  

“You know that's the _antepenultimate_ right?”  Pris rolled her eyes.  

“I’m game,” Jane said.  “I have to go over some Quidditch strategies with Brown – and that potions essay - but I can give you an hour.”

You could hear a pin drop.  “Jane Potter.”  Pads sounded traumatized.  

“What?”

“You can’t be serious,” Moony said, laughing.  “Jane Potter, scamp and ringleader, is going to pass up Hogsmeade?”

“We all grow up my children.”  

“I feel like the world is ending.”  This was Pads, face against the table.  “Woe is me.”

 

**10**

“Merlin’s saggy todger,” Seren said the morning of Hogsmeade.  “Moony!”

Moony already had her father’s corduroy pants on and a dark blue jumper over her button-down and tie.  Pris had already asked if she had a date.  Moony had purchased a pair of men’s Levis over the Summer with her grocery money, but had yet to wear them.   “I hear the dulcet tones of Pads.”  Two fingers emerged from beneath the duvet.  Very unwholesome fingers.  “What can I do for you?”

“I need you.”

“What, pray tell, for?”

“I’m cold.”

“Don’t you know when it’s going to happen?” Moony asked.  And then blushed slightly as both Jane and Pris gave her strange looks.  “I mean, isn’t this thing chartable?”  

“Fine.  I shall suffer in solitude.  To endure the inequities of the fairer sex.”

“You know that Prongs is going to be here, right?”

“I bruise easily.”  Forgetting to mention that most of Seren’s bruises were from mayhem with Prongs.  

“And I _am_ going out.  McKinnon asked.  And _business talk_ with the Head Boy.”

“Please, Moony.”  

“You’ve gotten good at that,” Pris said, moderately impressed with Seren’s pleading tones.  “The whole vocal manipulation thing.”

Once again, Seren’s unwholesome fingers emerged.  

“Oh…” But Moony couldn’t find it in her to say no.  Fifty-four months of precedent behind them.  “Alright.  But I want butterbeer.  And the largest chocolate frog you can find.”

“Pay up or shut up, Moony,” Pris said as charitably as she could.

“Fork it over, Black.”  With a long-suffering sigh, Seren came up with the knuts.  

“Now I feel like our bargain is dirty,” Seren said under her duvet.  “Like I’m paying for it.”

“I have no problem with that.”

So while Pris and Jane took off, Moony fulfilled her sacred duty.  She went down to the kitchens for toast and tea (and food for herself because she was fucking starving).  She went to the hospital ward to collect the potion – Pomfrey was still not back – and then peeled off the jumper before crawling into bed with Seren.  Who promptly squirmed and wiggled and somehow got a knee into Moony’s hip.  “You are such a pain in the ass.”

“But you love it,” Seren said, face buried somewhere.  But still slightly audible.

Moony huffed.  But she didn’t really mind.  Because with Jane adulting – Moony could barely ascribe that activity to her friend – Pris on a date and Seren on her deathbed it really wasn’t much fun to be in Hogsmeade.  People liked Moony.  That wasn’t the problem.  She just didn’t feel as at home as she did with the Marauders.

Potions textbook aloft, Moony attempted to do some reading.  But it was nice under the duvet, especially when Seren stopped squirming, and she fell asleep.  

She woke up again with the hazy impression that something was at her mouth.  It tickled, but not too much.  But it was wet.  And… Moony opened her eyes and Seren Black was _kissing_ her.  Moony had to process that.   _Kissing_ _her_.  Had she grabbed the wrong potion?  Was Seren sleepwalking, er, sleep kissing?  That seemed less farfetched than it should have.  

And then it was obvious.  Seren had probably done this loads of times before.  Woke up in a bed with a boy and snogged.  It was just muscle memory.

And Seren was going to kill her if Moony didn’t stop her.  

“Pads,” Moony pulled away with a hand on Seren’s shoulder.  “Love.  You have to wake up.”

“I am awake,” Seren said, petulantly – and flushed – as she opened her eyes.  

“Seren.  What is the Minister of Magic’s name?”

“Harold Minchum.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“How many am I?”  Those unwholesome fingers again.  

“I think there’s something wr—“

“Oh shut it you nervous nelly.  And let me…”

“Pads—“ Moony argued before her mouth was full of Seren’s tongue.  It was not the most pleasant sensation in the world.  But neither was it unpleasant.  It was just weird.  This was Seren Black, of course, and her _lips_ were involved.  Which Moony had always considered a lover-thing.  And of course they weren’t.  And possibly Seren had been drugged.  And Seren was actually quite good at this.  Enough that Moony _actually made a very embarrassing_ sound that was probably audible.  

And parts of her.  The usually inert parts, she supposed, were actually, well, _reacting_ in a very unexpected way to this.  She was, er, damp for one.  In a place that usually wasn’t.  And other parts of her were tingling.  “Pads—“ And this time, Moony was rather successful at extricating herself.  “What on earth are you doing?”

Seren gave her a look like she was an idiot.  “We are snogging.  Obviously.”

“But why?”  Moony could hear the tremor in her voice.  If Seren died from the wrong potion it would be Moony’s fault.  And she knew for a fact that Seren’s family was really rather scary.  

“Because I want to.”  And in Pads’ world – drugged as she obviously was – it was a simple as that.  

“I think you’ve been drugged.  We have to get you to the hospital ward as soon as possible.”

With a frustrated huff, Seren leaned over to open the drawer of her bedside table.  She pulled out a clear liquid clearly labeled _Love Potion No. 9_.  “After many attempts on my eligible self, I brewed a cauldron of this stuff.  It’s a love potion antidote.  Dead useful.”  She uncorked it and drained it completely, then backhanded her mouth for effect.  “Now can I kiss you again?”

“But why?”

“We’ve already been over this, Moony.  Because I want to.”  Moony was still not sure magic wasn’t involved in some fashion.  It wasn’t that she thought witches didn’t do this together.  Had she given it any thought at all.  Rather, it was because she was Moony.  And Seren was, well, Seren.  They were friends.  “That was your first kiss, wasn’t it?”  And Seren’s light eyes glimmered.  Almost mercenary.  Which was pretty normal for Seren.  “Good.  I think I like that.”

“Now hold up,” Moony said, trying to gain the upper hand again, hand on the bony ridge of Seren’s sternum.  “What are you playing at?”

“I’m not playing at anything, Moony.”  Seren’s eyes changed then.  “This is a very normal thing that girls do, right?  Like practice.”

“But you’ve never practiced with Jane or Pris.”   _Touché_.

Seren bit her lower lip.  And then smiled.  “Not where you’ve seen it.  But I’ve done it.  Oh, lots of times.”

“Really?”  Moony had no idea.  Under her own nose, no less.  And neither Jane nor Pris – who were not the most circumspect of individuals – had said anything.  Moony wasn’t even hurt that she’d been left out.  Just thoroughly confused.  And then, “Wow.  I should have been doing this years ago.”  This was amazing.  

“Well, that’s not important now,” Seren said, still up on one elbow.  “I can help you catch up right now.”

“But isn’t it… weird… to be kissing someone you’ve known forever?”

“No.”  And then Seren rolled over and started kissing Moony again.  She was still at first – Moony – but finally relaxed as Seren really was a very good kisser.  She put her lips and tongue and breath to good use that Moony definitely marveled at.  It made her body jerk and get hot.  And after a “kiss me back,” against her lips, she did so.  Moony was almost certainly pants at it.  But Seren didn’t seem to mind.  In fact, she sort of guided her by tilting her head and using her tongue as a leash.  

It was kind of… Moony didn’t know.  But she thought it best to ignore anything other than the practicing bit.  As she wasn’t sure if the rest of it was to be brought up.

They continued like that for what felt like hours.  Until Moony was physically aching and really thought she was going to embarrass herself if they kept practicing.  She broke off.  And hoped she didn’t look like Seren, who was flushed and messy.  And who sort of looked like a vampire after a blood meal.  “What?”  Seren asked, a little croakily.

“I really need some water.”  Moony did.  She also really wanted to get out from under Seren.  She was worried that she had… leaked… on the bed.  Which would be mortifying to say the least.

Seren smiled, a dazy, warm smile.  “I could use some more potion.  Can you get me some?”

“Sure.”  Moony got off and under the excuse of fixing the duvet covertly checked out the sheets.  Her secret seemed rather safe.  

That night at dinner, Moony tried to act as normal as possible.  As Pris had delivered a bucket of chocolate frogs and Jane had not died while meeting with Evans at the Three Broomsticks, it was easier than she’d thought.

At the end of the meal, Seren stood up, grabbed Jane by the tie and kissed her right on the lips.  She looked right at Moony and said, “See.”

Jane grumbled a bit, but Seren put a finger on her mouth and she shrugged.

 

**11**

Moony received a summons - via a third year Gryff with a neck brace - to the hospital ward just after three on a Friday afternoon.  Pomfrey was finally back at Hogwarts and had promised tea and biscuits - and probably potions and prodding - for the very welcome Lupin. _After the completion of your Friday afternoon course_.

Moony thought she appreciated the fact that Pomfrey seemed to be taking this all rather… seriously.  They were going to have an important adult conversation about important adult things.  Because Moony was an adult.  Though perhaps a very confused one.

In the front row of Transfig, Jane and Seren - who had been forced to the front row so Jane could sit across from Evans - had their dark heads together, flipping through their textbook.  The class was rather unstructured this year, particularly on Friday afternoons, and Moony read her scroll while Pris sat beside her with a covert cuppa.  McGonagall had loosened up considerably in the presence of fourteen adults.  Or _sort of_ adults in the case of Potter and Black.

“Detention?”  Pris asked, somewhat listlessly going through the book.  They were to make a lesson of their own to teach to the class.  Theirs was sometime in mid-December.  They had already agreed on Gamp’s Law of Transformation as Pris enjoyed the boundaries of magic and Moony had done a paper on it in Fourth Year and was certain it would come up in the NEWTs.  

“Ah, no.  Lyco stuff.”  

“Are you alright?”  Pris had been with her during the last full moon - about a week past - and Moony had thought she had got off rather light all things told.  

She smiled.  “Yes, yes of course.  I just have to go over some things with Pomfrey.  The normal stuff.”  Pris laughed, because normal for Moony was very different than most people.

Pomfrey was as reassuring as ever.  In her starched white robes and greying hair pulled into a severe bun.  “Lupin.  Sit down and get to work on these sweets.  I’ve had just about enough adzuki beans to last through my dotage.”

Moony put her heart and soul into the task.

Once they’d had tea each and Moony was pleasantly full (filling?) of something called mochi, Pomfrey summoned a folder that she spelled open.  When she did, a parchment unrolled itself and a quill was perched, ready to write.  Suddenly, talking to Pomfrey was very real.  More real than writing something down and sending it off.  Real because she was sitting across from the healer.  

Something of this must have shown, as Pomfrey said, “Don’t pay any attention to that old thing.  It’s for patient notes.  Let me say it’s done it’s paces with the lot of you.  Just relax.”  

“Alright.”

And then Pomfrey went over Moony’s entire medical record.  That was ordinary and boring, so Moony started to release her tension.  A werewolf since four.  Possibly born under the influence of grass.  “So as per your letter, you’ve never had a menstrual cycle?”

Moony nodded.

“That’s not entirely unusual in and of itself,” Pomfrey smiled.  “There could be any number of reasons.  Natural causes of course.  Lifestyles.  And sometimes hormonal imbalances.”  When Pomfrey used such a _muggle_ term, Moony arched a brow.  “There are more things than magic, Lupin.”  And then, “When did your mother first start menstruating?”

“She was 11.”  Pomfrey’s quill scratched out the information.  She then went through a series of increasingly more embarrassing questions.  When had she first noticed her breasts developing (around 14 and then just stopped), when she first noticed pubic hair (around 10, but she was a werewolf).  Moony was getting redder and redder, until Pomfrey signaled the quill to stop.  

“Well, I thought we would go through a battery of normal tests.  The sort you go through fairly more often than others, I think.  But with your permission - as you’re now an adult - I would also like to do a more thorough exam.”

“Alright.”

Moony didn’t particularly like taking off her clothes, but she did so.  Pomfrey who had probably seen her in the nude more times than she could recount.  As she was usually unconscious when she ended up in the ward.  Moony was tall and whipcord lean.  She was slim hipped and _thankfully_ did not have too broad of shoulders.  She had muscles in places where muscles shouldn’t be on a 17-year-old girl and scars on her back, front, legs, and arms.  Most were faded - or in the process of fading after last week - except for two.  A dark reddish scar on her left arm.  And a rough patch of ill-healed skin on her torso, beneath her left breast.  Those compliments of her Yorkshire founding.

After a very thorough examination, including hair, skin, and blood samples - it was all very muggle, actually - Pomfrey was done.  “I think I’ve everything I need.  You’re as fit as a fiddle, Lupin.  I’ll try to hide my jealousy the next time I have to squat down for something.”  They both laughed.  “I’ll let you know when Smethwyck will come.  Maybe we’ll have some answers for you.”

This seemed, for now, enough.  Moony wasn’t ready to talk about her identity crisis.  

One thing at a time.

 

**12**

“So,” this from Seren, who was standing with her knees against the side of Moony’s bed.  

“So?”  The library had been quite full – including Jane and Evans actually _sitting together_ – so Moony had come back to the dorm.  Where it had been quiet until a thumpy and sighing Seren showed up.

“So, I thought we could practice again.”  

“You want to do that again?”  Moony asked, not really looking up from her book.  

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad,” And Seren stamped her foot for effect.  Because that’s what she did when she was tiny and wanted people to pay attention to her.

“No, I suppose it wasn’t,” Moony said after a moment of thought.  “But I have to finish this chapter.  Can’t you find Jane or Pris to practice on?”

Seren’s mouth fell open and the she climbed up on the bed one sharp knee at a time.  “But I want to practice with _you_.”

“You’re going to mess up my notes,” Moony said, snapping the book shut and trying to get the parchments out of the way before Seren creased them.  Seren kicked the book out of the bed.  

“I’m not going anywhere until we practice.”

“You are a spoilt child.”

“Probably.  But the promise stands.”

“The threat, you mean?”

“Whatever.”  And because Moony really didn’t mind, more so than she thought she should have minded, she let Seren do it.  It turned into a Seren doing it to a Moony and Seren doing it rather quickly.  Seren had her left hand in her hair and was tugging.  It hurt a little, but it got better the more Seren was kissing her.

Seren was pressing against her this time, close enough that she was almost a second skin, and Moony realized that Seren was not wearing anything under her blouse.  Was this a normal thing?  Moony, who had never really cared much about what anyone else was wearing, couldn’t remember.  

“Will you stop thinking,” Seren said – very close to her mouth – with a perturbed huff.

“But you’re not wearing anything under your shirt,” Moony said, quite shocked.  

She could feel Seren’s phantom smile.  “Do you like it?”

Moony pulled back for real this time.  “What does that have to do with anything?”

“What do you mean what does it have to do with anything?”  Whatever Moony was saying wasn’t what Seren wanted to hear.  She could hear the winding up in Seren’s voice.  Merlin’s beard, she could be a terror.

“Well, why does it matter whether I like you wearing foundation garments or not?  What does that have to do with practice?”

And then Seren smiled her Cheshire cat smile.  The one that said _I know something you don’t know_.  “Moony.  Practice isn’t just snogging.”

“It’s not?”

“No.  Snogging is just the first thing to practice.  There are other things, too.”

“I’m not taking off my foundation garments,” Moony said.  She didn’t actually _need_ foundation garments but that was not strictly the point.

Seren rolled her eyes.  “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable yet.  But I _am_ comfortable with taking off my,” she laughed, " _foundation garments_.  So I did.  And I want to know if you like it?”

“I don’t know how to answer that.  Doesn’t it hurt to not wear anything?  Like support?”

“Well, you could support me,” Seren said.  And Moony’s mouth fell open.  “Or not.   _Or not_.”

Moony could not believe that Jane and Pris had let Seren do this.  But.  Maybe Pris would use those skills with Henry.  And Jane with Evans.  So maybe they had.  And it felt nice.  More than nice.  Apparently putting off revising nice.  

“We can just, er, practice snogging.  If that’s alright?”  Seren sounded somewhat hesitant, which was highly unnatural from her, and Moony smiled.

“Alright.  But,” Moony took a breath.  “I’m not saying I won’t practice other things with you.  I’m just not ready to practice other things yet.”

“Okay.  But you’ll let me know, right?”

“Of course,” Moony looked at Seren as if she was daft.  

And then they started snogging again.  No revising was done that night.

 

**13**

Practice went from a once or twice thing into an every-other-day sort of thing.  When Jane was at scrimmage and Pris with Henry, Seren would come over to Moony’s bed and they would snog.  

It got to the point that Moony started thinking about it during the day.  Outside of the proscribed snogging hour… or two… or three.  She wasn’t sure if thinking about it was alright.  And there was no way she was going to ask Seren.  Because she had no idea if that was something one talked about when practicing.  Seren had never mentioned thinking about it outside of the hours of operation.  

On the night before Christmas Hols, Seren crawled onto Moony’s bed in her skirt and blouse, and then into Moony’s lap.  There had been libations in the Common room and almost everyone was still down there.  They were both more sober than not.  Seren very rarely drank for whatever reason.  And Moony just didn’t like firewhiskey very much.  And that seemed to be the only illicit beverage on offer.  “I want you, Moony.”

“I’m assuming to snog you.”  But Moony was smiling.  She really liked practicing with Seren.  And she was pleased to find that should she actually date someone - if she felt so inclined - she had the necessary skills to carry forth.  

“Yessss.”  Seren rolled her eyes, as she always did when Moony asked her something she considered obvious.  Moony was only in a t-shirt and cords, she had been packing, and when Seren pressed against her, she could feel the tight nibs of Seren’s nipples as she moved against her.  And Moony felt hot.  Her pants - she had shifted to more generic, covering pants in the past three months - had gone liquid at the lining.  Hoping to pull back a bit, cool off, Moony pulled back from Seren’s mouth and dropped her head against her throat.

This did not work.

“Can I…” Moony said, pushing it out of her dry throat, ready for Seren to recoil.  “Can I touch you?”

“Merlin’s arse, yes.”  Seren pulled back enough that Moony had full access to her blouse.  She could actually see the _color_ of Seren’s areola through the fabric.  She didn’t realize she had made a noise until Seren had her hand in Moony’s hair and was snogging her hard.  Moony continued to work on the buttons - although slightly preoccupied - and ended up ripping the blouse.  She pulled back, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.  Your blouse…”

But Seren’s eyes had gone silver and her hips had gone wild.  She grabbed Moony’s right hand and put it on her breast.  Moony had touched her own breasts before - small though they were - while bathing or dressing.  But it was nothing at all like cupping the weight of Seren’s.  They - the set - were not quite symmetrical.  Which was hopelessly endearing for whatever reason.  Moony accidentally touched Seren’s left nipple and she arched like a cat, her splayed legs moving against Moony’s leg.  

Practice had definitely gone beyond snogging.  

Moony grew more confident the louder Seren got - although that noise was also troubling as Moony was certain someone was going to hear them - and plucked and circled and then licked.  She had no idea why she’d done it.  It seemed like a good idea at the time.  Seren pulled back and Moony immediately apologized.  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“NO!”  Seren was very loud, it startled Moony.  “It’s really good.”  She slid her left hand under her skirt and Moony could see the movement of her fingers.  Moony _definitely_ knew what she was doing.  She just couldn’t believe she was doing while _on_ Moony’s lap.  She caught the momentary glimpse of dark pubic hair, white panties, and then Seren hauled her in for a bruising kiss.  

It was so hot.  So hot.

She could feel Seren’s thighs grind down on her leg, the occasional brush of her wrist.  Seren was moaning in her mouth, gasping, her breasts scraping against the cotton of Moony’s shirt.  And then she came.  Moony could smell it.  The burst of her orgasm, the heat of her body.  Being a dark creature was sometimes maddening.  Like now when all Moony wanted to do was put her own hand down her pants and rub.  But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.  Not in front of Seren.

So she grit her teeth, jaw twitching, as Seren dropped her head on her shoulder trying to catch her breath.  “I’m so sorry,” Seren said into the skin of Moony’s neck.  

“Why?”  

Seren picked herself up and pulled back enough to look Moony right in the eyes.  “I know we haven’t gone beyond snogging… during practice.  I didn’t mean to push you.  I want you to enjoy it.”

Moony frowned.  “I like it.  A lot, actually.”

“But you never seem to be particularly affected,” Seren frowned herself.  

“On the contrary, I am, er, _very_ affected.  But I wasn’t sure I was supposed to be.  Being practice and all.”

“You daft fool.  Of course you're supposed to be _affected_.  It’s, um, practice for both of us.  Not just me.”  Seren kissed her on the forehead, lightly, before falling against her.  Moony caught her on a laugh.  “I was beginning to think that the Black charm had lost it’s luster.”

“Oh, no.  No it hasn’t.”  

“If you want to…” Seren pressed her hand on Moony’s hip.  “I don’t mind.”

“Oh… oh!  No.  I’ve never done that in front of someone before.”  Moony was bright red now.  She could feel it over her face and going down her body.  And then, because she was still wound, “You don’t mind?”

“No.”  It was a small voice, a whisper.

“Alright,” It was with quite a bit of nervousness that Moony popped the flies and let her hand trail down to her sex.  Her pants were so wet, she was certain she was going to chafe.  When she opened her eyes, forefinger swiping, it was to find Seren popped up on her elbow, watching.  “Okay, I don’t think I can do this with you watching me,” Moony said, her hand stilling.

“Oh, okay.”  Seren sort of fell back down on the bed, although she was still lying on her side.  “But I can watch the way your cords move, right?”

“I’m not sure why you’d want to.  But sure?”

And then with practiced efficiency - and a flaming face - Moony brought herself off.  She was already two-thirds of the way there as it was.  She was only vaguely aware of the movement of Seren beside her, one leg propped up as she buried her fingers into that dark mat.  It was just too much.  It built hard and Moony knew it was going to be a strong one.  They weren’t always that way, mostly on or around the full moon, and when she came it was so loud.  An _Ahhhhhhh_ that sort of echoed in their dorm.  Because the curtains weren’t closed on her bed.  Seren had her face buried against her shoulder, mouthing the skin below the sleeve line, and grunted as she worked towards her own orgasm.  

This time Moony watched her face.  And it was unbelievably lovely.  She had seen that face for nine months for the past seven years.  And yet not really seen it.

They passed out - after Moony got them water, something to sleep in for Seren, and cast a quick cleaning spell.  The room had a sweet musky scent to it that was fairly recognizable.   _Mostly me_ , Moony knew.  

No need to explain.  Jane and Pris had done this, too, right?

In the middle of the night - with the curtains closed and a silencing charm in effect - they started again.  Kissing and fondling - of Seren mostly - and then a frantic race to come.  

It was a quite lovely pre-Hols turn of events.

 

**14**

“If you’re going to be in there all day, you might as well clean it,” Gran said from the doorway of Moony’s room.  Not one to pass up an opportunity, she already had a broom and dustpan in hand.  “Perhaps it’ll even get you out of your brown study.”  
  
Moony snorted.  Gran was good for her brown studies and megrims and agonies in red (whatever that meant).  A veritable Charles Dickens she was.  “I’m not in a brown study.”  
  
Now Gran snorted.  “So, I’m to suppose that it’s all the rage these days to have a 24-hour lie-in?”  
  
“Do you _know_ any teenagers?”  
  
“Two of the most foolish this side of Christendom.  You,” she looked pointedly at Moony and then sighed, “And once your father.”  Moony nodded and Gran entered her room – privacy was at a premium and the Lupins respected boundaries – setting the dustpan on the dresser.  “I suppose you’re not going to be needing this anymore?”  She was holding up one of the silver brushes she’d brought down for Moony when she was younger.  There were still long hairs wound around the boar bristles.  Moony thought she looked apologetic – she felt apologetic – and Gran nodded.  “Well, there’s a family in town who have nothing.  But a lot of hair.  I thought their youngest could use this.  Since it’s just sitting around.”  
  
“If you’re sure.  I mean, isn’t it a family thing?”  
  
“I’m not really sure of anything, now am I?”  Gran pronounced before sitting – very carefully, she had learned through the years – onto the hard chair next to Moony’s dresser.    
  
“I’m pretty sure you said it was an heirloom when you gave it to me.”  
  
“I’m not talking about the hairbrush.  I’m talking about you.”  
  
“Through the allegory of a hairbrush?”  Gran actually blushed, but martialed herself enough to carry on.  
  
“Listen.  We’re two fools in this room together.  One nattering on about hair brushes but really meaning granddaughters.  And one who spends altogether too much time in the downstairs loo.”

“I like that loo.”

“Apparently.”

Pris had knitted Moony a cap for winter, a red and gold striped beanie that covered her ears.  Moony had it on now.  She didn’t know what to say, looking down at her hands.  Her long rough fingers. The nails cut shorter than her nail pads.  “I don’t think I’m ready to tell you just yet.  I’m sort of figuring it out myself.”

“I got it into my head that those Wizards were on you again.  About the whole werewolf thing.  Which, I may add, is none of their bloody business.”

Moony’s smile was real.  But somewhat strained.  “I’ve sort of gotten over those disappointments a while ago.  I’m not sure what’s going to happen in July.  But I’m hopeful.  McGonagall said they’ve finished my paperwork for Muggle - regular - University.  It looks like it’ll be going somewhere.  I’ll know by May.”

“Well, congratulations!”  Gran seemed to visibly relax.  “I suppose you’ll be finding a place away from here, then?”

“Maybe?  I’ll have to work a lot this Summer.  And probably while in school.”

“Welcome to adulthood, _Longshanks_.”

“Thanks?”

 

**15**

“We missed you so much!”  The smell of patchouli as Mum hugged her was wonderfully familiar.  “We brought so many things back for you from Europe.”

At present there were no less than three caravans in the field.  Including her parent’s, some of their friends, and Uncle Scaddy’s.  And no less than six owls in Moony’s room having delivered their wares.  Correspondence.  And gifts.  Pris had already given Moony her hat.  But now she had a scarf and mittens to go with.  Potter had delivered - via four owls - about twenty pounds of _really good_ chocolate.  She was with her parents skiing for the Hols.  

Seren had sent along a heavy muggle blazer.  It was grey wool and actually fit rather well.  Standing in front of the Queen Anne mirror, Moony felt… she felt rather dashing, actually.  She also felt something in the pocket.  A small silver cylinder, about 2 ½ inches long with raised switches, not unlike necklace clasps, that slid under her thumb.  When she got one to move, it started to vibrate and then _You’ve got your mother in a whirl / she’s not sure if you’re a boy or a girl_.  Sliding the switches played another song.  Some of them were wizarding songs - including a _Cauldron Full of Hot Sweet Love_ , which always amused after Third Year - but a lot were Muggle songs.  Moony spent more time that she would admit to winding and switching the thing to hear what Seren had made for her.  

She was so… She was actually very happy.  Maybe Mum called her Rose and maybe it was weirder than it ought to be.  But no one else did.  Even her Dad called her _Longshanks_.  It was a hereditary title, he would remind her - and anyone else nearby - that passed from father to child.  “In every generation there will be a Longshanks.”

Enough that she found herself, in her grey tweed jacket and red and gold striped hat dancing - mostly in the corner - to Taj Mahal while her Dad sang, “ _Further on, down the road girl.  You will accompany me_.”  With an emergency plate of biscuits.  Because, werewolf.

She thought that she probably should have put more thought into Seren’s gift.

 

**16**

“So when are you going to finish the Checklist?”  Moony asked sometime after they were back from Hols.

“What do you mean?”

“The Checklist.  To finish off Hogwarts’ worthy as a glorious end to your illustrious career.”  Moony was smiling, she’d always been amused by Seren’s checklist, but something about Seren’s face was disjointed, irregular.

“You want me to see other people?”

Moony was quite surprised by the question.  “Are you seeing someone now?”  She didn’t realize that Seren had someone in the wings.

“I thought I was.”  There was a leading-ness to the sentence.  

“This,” Moony had dropped her voice to the barest of whispers, “Isn’t messing it up is it?  We can stop.  If it is.”

“No,” Pads said, scrabbling over parchment and quills - and nearly upending an ink well - to grab at Moony’s hand.  “No, this is _fine_.”  Some of Moony’s discomfort must have shown as Seren smiled at her and said, “It’s just… complicated.”

“You know, if someone’s winding you up, they’re not worth it,” Moony said, feeling like she needed to say something.  And then realizing that she meant it.  “I would never do that to you.”

“No?”  

“I mean.  If I were a boy who was not me who you wanted to be with.  Like a boyfriend.”

“Oh?”

“Erm, like that hypothetical person wouldn’t do that to you, right?”  Moony was quite certain that the foot in her mouth was choking.

“Oh, do go on, Moony.  You’re adorable when you blush.”

“I’m not blushing,” Moony said, but of course she was.  

“Oh, of course not.  Maybe just that hypothetical not you who wants to be my boyfriend.”

“I’m not entirely sure why we’re still talking about this,” Moony said.

Seren shrugged.  And mercenary - which really was a native look to Seren - was back.  “Do you want to go practice with me?  I’ve done as much as I can with these runes and I want to watch you touch yourself again.”

“You can’t say that here,” they were, after all, in the library.

“Well, you had better come then, shouldn’t you?”

 

**17**

Also at some point after the Hols, Jane and Evans had started dating.  Moony was rather alarmed that she hadn’t immediately noticed.  “It’s alright, Moony.  With the NEWTs and all, we’ve barely had any time together ourselves.”  

There had already been a near meltdown in the dorm when Pris and Henry had broken up - and then got back together.  Exam nerves were running high.  There was talk that a Seventh Year Ravenclaw had had to be admitted to St Mungo’s.  And the heap of parchments on Moony’s bed had risen to epic levels.

“Quiz me on Charms, Moony,” Seren said, coming across the room.  “I’ve been revising for days and the words are all running together.”

“Maybe you should do some practicals to break up all the theoreticals?  That’s what I’ve been doing.”

“Oh yeah?  Where?”

“In one of the classrooms.  They don’t lock all of them, you know.”  But Moony knew Seren knew.  No doubt she’d christened all of them at one time or another.  

“Alright, let’s do it.”

They went back and forth, practicals and theoreticals, until both of them were done with charms for the foreseeable future.  “I mean, how many Os does someone need anyway?”

“Easy for you to say, Black,” And then Moony moved aside before Seren could reach her.

“But what are you going to do after graduation?”

“Not being a Cursebreaker, anyway.  Claws are an automatic disqualifier.”  It was out before she could edit it.  Mentioning it - talking about it - always made the Marauders furious.  And it made Moony sad.  So when it came up she always couched it in humor.  

Pads took her hand by reflex and squeezed it.  “That’s such shit.”

Moony shrugged.  “It’s the way the world works.  Besides, I’m going to Muggle university.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”  Moony didn’t quite know what she was going to do there.  But she liked school.  And she was comfortable in the muggle world.  “You?”  She knew that Seren was not sure about the future.  Probably something to do with being a Black.  Moony had no idea what the idle posh did.  And couldn’t really see Seren happy there.

“Do you want to live with me after graduation?”  It came, rapid-fire, out of Seren’s mouth.  Not her usual style at all.

“What, with your family?”  Even Moony could not hide her distaste.

Seren laughed, wrapping her arms around Moony’s torso.  It was the highest she could get without aid.  “No.  My Uncle’s given me a flat in London.”

“ _Only_ one in London?  Not one in Spain where everyone who’s anyone Summers? How remiss of him.”

“Are you making fun of me?”  But of course Moony was.  And of course Seren knew that.  

“Not 100%.  Just 98%.”  

“You’re awful,” but Seren had got hold of Moony’s tie and pulled her down for a kiss.  Sweet and the middling sort that left Moony a little winded and warm.  Almost at the door to the Gryff dorms.  

“Pads…”  With a wicked look, Seren surprised Moony against the wall.  The tapestry of Pepin the Tongueless was empty - Pepin undoubtedly out for a stroll - and Seren was bite-sucking Moony’s lips so she forgot about Pepin altogether.  He was, after all, tongueless.

And Seren had transfigured a bench out of a piece of forgotten parchment.  And that was impressive magic.  Sort of like revising.

And then Seren put her hands under her skirt and _removed her panties_.  Moony could smell them.  She could smell the musk of her body.  Seren pushed Moony to sitting and put her left leg up on the bench.  And then lifted up her skirt.

Suffice it to say, she was no longer wearing anything under her skirt.  She was all creamy - Moony couldn’t believe she was using that adjective in her head - skin and dark curls.  “I dare you to touch me,” she whispered against Moony’s ear.  And then because Seren was some sort of a demon, she used her left forefinger and thumb to peel back the lips of her labia and show off the pink of her sex.

“ _Merlin_ ,” Moony sighed.  Because, really, there was nothing else to be said.

With a great deal of whispered direction from Seren, Moony trailed and touched everything she could.  Eventually, she teased out her clitoris and used the rough pads of her fingers again and again, her left hand holding Seren’s hip so she didn’t fall over.  Moony watched her face as she came.  She always watched Seren’s face when she came.  Because Seren was beautiful and she had made her look that way.

“ _Ummmm_ ,” Seren said as if she’d just woken up or had her favorite trifle.  “Come up and I’ll do you.”

“We have to revise, Pads,” Moony said while Seren frowned.  They did have to revise, but neither was Moony completely comfortable with letting Seren see her naked.  She was all hard planes and scars and she didn’t think she was ready for it.  Not in a practice way.

 

**18**

“Every time I look at the map, you’re with Pads,” Prongs mentioned in passing.  “Hopefully getting up to the youthful hijinks which my post disallows.”

Moony knew she was blushing, but thankfully Jane was so enamored of Evans - and Quidditch - that she didn’t notice or comment.  “Are you and Evans going to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

It was Valentine’s.

“Yes.”  And then Moony heard more about Liam Evans than she’d ever want to know in her life.  Probably more than Evans wanted her to know as well.

“Jane,” Moony said, because this needed to be said _right now_ before she lost her nerve.

“What?  Is everything okay?”  Jane looked alarmed - Moony felt alarmed - as she turned towards her, dark hair staticky and glasses askew.  

“I--”. Moony took a deep breath.  “I haven’t menstruated.”

The emotions that flickered across Prongs’ face would have been hilarious.  If the situation wasn’t so dire.  “How…” she said faintly, finally.  “How long since it been since your last period?”  Lip chewing.  Prongs was worried.  And being very Potter-serious which was _very_ serious and very endearing.

But it was also a weird question.  “I mean… I’ve never had a period.”

Jane visibly relaxed, caught between a laugh and a sigh, thought better of either and then wrapped her arms around Moony’s midsection.  “Merlin’s tongue, Moony.  I thought… I thought you were telling me you were pregnant.”

“What?  No!”  Probably because Moony had never given a thought to children or pregnancy in her life.  “I haven’t even…”. Moony ran a hand through her short curls, on a shaky sigh.  Technically, she supposed she _had_ had sex.  Just not of the inseminating sort.  “I think there is something seriously wrong with me.”

Moony looked out the window while she attempted to calm her heart.  Here it was.  Jane Potter would think she was some sort of a freak.  17 and she was still… a child?  That didn’t feel quite right.  Unfinished, maybe?

“Moony, my dear dear Moony.  Don’t take this the wrong way,” Moony tensed.  “But you are the luckiest fucker in the world.  Have you seen the way Princess Pads is every month?  Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of wool?”

“Intimately.”  And then Moony was blushing again.  “But you don’t think it’s… unnatural?”

“I respect the courage it took for you to tell me this.  Honestly. I wish you would trust me with more.  You’re one of my best friends.  And if you don’t clutter up the loo with your bloody napkins it’s all for the best.  I hate to say this of my fellow Gryffs, but girls are absolute savages.”

They were hugging again when Seren came in, in a loose grey jumper and an enormous red and gold scarf around her neck.  Her skirt was far too short - not unusual - and she was, as always, impeccably made up.  She was also going to freeze to death on the way to Hogsmeade.  She narrowed her grey eyes.  “What a happy couple we have here,” it had all the archness one would expect from a Black.  “Don’t you have a boyfriend to go to?”

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” but Jane was grinning again.  She squeezed Moony’s hand before squishing her feet into a pair of trainers and then running out of the room.  “Don’t get into too much trouble you two.”

“I’ve been waiting for you for _hours_.”

“I’m fairly certain you spent all of that time in front of a mirror.”

“Well it _felt_ like hours.  Which is close enough.”  She was on the knife’s edge of a smile.  “Now are we going to Hogsmeade or what?”

“I thought you would be going with someone else,” Moony said, somewhat surprised.  “And,” she walked up to Seren.  “Are you wearing my jumper?”

“I clearly recall asking you directly to Hogsmeade, Moony.”  Seren had her arms crossed, as if it would hide the fact that she’d knicked one of Moony’s best jumpers.  Her favorite jumper, actually.

“I remember a sharpish _Hogsmeade_ thrown across the room a couple of mornings ago.  To which I shrugged.”

“Which is a definite agreement.  Binding and all that.”  

“All that?”  But Pads was grinning now.  “You are a menace to society.”

“But you love it.”  Stated as fact.  Aggressive and very, very sure of herself.  Since it was true, Moony laughed.  “So get dressed and come down to Hogsmeade with me.  I want coffee and sugar quills.”

 

**19**

“I didn’t realize you wanted to get coffee _here_ ,” Moony said about a half-hour later, hand in pockets, standing outside of Madame Puddifoot’s.  “Aren’t you banned?  For life?”

“Being banned is a…” Seren had a thoughtful look on her face.  “State of mind.  That’s it.  Subject to the whims of time and fancy.”

“I think attacking students with sentient teacups is a whim and a fancy of yours.  But not of Madame Puddifoot.”  

“A difference of opinion, my dear.  Ten galleons says we aren’t kicked out.”

“Ten _knuts_ , fancy pants, says that I’m not kicked out.  But you are.”

“Ohhh, negotiations.”  Seren clasped her hands together quite villainously.  “How about… ten _knuts_ and you… you let me _reciprocate_ some of the things you do for me.”

Moony’s eyes narrowed.  It wasn’t like she didn’t want Pads to reciprocate.  She just… couldn’t.  Not yet.  She could also see the color photograph of Seren through the frosty windows.  There was no way.  “Alright.  But I get to set the conditions under which I remove any clothing.”

“So long as you’re not one-hundred years old.”

“No, that’s not very sporting is it?  How about I’ll show you the, er, goods so to speak if we’re still practicing, um, in a month.”  Even with NEWTs, there was no way Seren could last five months without mowing back through Hogwarts’ offerings.  Practice was… nice.  But it was, as named, only practice.  Whether Moony liked it or not.

“Deal.”  So confident.  So wrong.  They shook on it.

And damned if Seren didn’t charm the - not entirely literal - pants off of Madame Puddifoot.  “I’m beginning to think there’s a scheme afoot.”

“Hardly,” Seren laughed, _free_ coffee in hand.  “It’s the Black charm.  Works every time.”  She was laughing, pink cheeked and… actually… Moony felt something in her chest thump into the pit of her stomach.  It was like exam stress… but sort of nice?  This bore some thought.  When she was alone and not sitting across from the incomparable Seren Black.  Hoyden and part-time dog.

Moony had removed her jumper - only the second best - as it was so goddamned hot in Puddifoot’s.  She supposed it had something to do with the lack of clothing most of the students had opted for.  She was self-conscious about her scars - and the big one down her left bicep was almost visible - but had dressed so quickly that she had grabbed one of the smaller t-shirts.  There was an actual bead of sweat - maybe two? - going down her back.  “Sugar quills.  Coffee.  You have everything your heart desires.”  Moony was waiting for her tea to cool, but had not hesitated to eat several handfuls of chocolate hearts.  Although the peeling part was rather tedious.

“If I asked you go back to Hogwarts and lick me, would you?”

“Like on your hand?”  

Seren rolled her eyes.  “You are hopeless, Moony.  I meant… other places.”  Moony watched her eyes go from looking into hers and then shoot down.  Down.  Oh.

“ _Oh_.  You want me to do that to you?”  Seren never ceased to shock - and then amaze - her.  Moony was almost entirely blushed out.  Capillaries blown.  Shame still there but callousing.  She took an experimental sip of her tea as if Seren hadn't just asked her to go down on her.  In public.

“Yes please.”

“Can I finish my tea first?”

“You are absolutely adorable.”  Moony had never seen that look on Seren’s face before.  She was looking at her as if she were a Milk Bone.  

“I guess you’re… cute?”  Moony was going to say beautiful, prompted by the odd flutter in her gut, but slid into a safer adjective.

“One of these days, Moony, I’m going to teach you all the ways I want to be flattered.”

“I only have one lifetime, Pads.”

 

**20**

By early March, Moony had learned quite a lot of ways to flatter Seren.  Most, like at the current moment, involved somehow fitting herself between Seren’s small legs and finding the nub of her clitoris with her tongue.  She was a quick learner.

Seren was flawless.  All smooth skin and curves.  It was overwhelming and it also made Moony less and less inclined to take off her own clothes.  She was so… straight.  She had, however, gotten to a point - mostly due to frustration - where Moony would shuck her trousers, though not her pants, and immediately get under the duvet.  Seren seemed to like it - a lot, actually - even though she really didn’t see anything of note and would nip at the skin on her thighs and the bones of her hips.

It was very nice.  

“Merlin’s bell-end!”  Both Moony and Seren started as Pris yelled from her bed.  “I have no idea what you are doing, but if you don’t stop it I’m going to strangle someone.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Petting turned to snogging - which was infinitely much quieter - and eventually daylight when Moony woke up with a _very naked_ Seren curled up against her.  “Rise and shine ladies!”  Seren groaned and burrowed closer.  “Brekkie’s on.”

Jane was altogether too perky in the mornings.  No doubt back from one of her Quidditch runs.

The rattle of curtain rings and then, “Where’s Pads?”

The person in question started against Moony, clasping her arm.  Moony shook her head.  

“I dunno, but I think Moony participated in the shagging arts last night.”  Pris sounded so self-satisfied with herself.  “I have no idea how you got someone up those stairs.  But I’m sure you’ll share your secrets with your bosom chums.”  The last was said loud enough that Moony knew it was directed at her.  Pris had been trying to sneak Henry up all year.  Obviously unsuccessfully.

“I’m starved,” Jane said.  “Let’s let Moony’s paramour do their walk of shame.  We can wait for them in the Common Room.”  Pris groaned, but followed.  From the doorway, Jane yelled back, “Ten minutes.  Or I’m back up here and outing you.”

In more way than one.  

“Congrats on being inducted to the shagging arts, my love,” Seren said, out of the bed like a shot, a mad grin on her face, and all buttery skin.  Moony put her head in her hand.  Had she just quoted her Grandda?  In her own head.  She was losing her mind.  “Dibs on the shower.”

It was Moony who came downstairs about seven minutes later - alone - under the haze of a hastily cast cleaning spell and yesterday’s clothes.  Which were the same as everyday clothes, just a bit more wrinkly.  Jane was perched on the arm of the couch and Pris leaning against the back of the aforementioned couch.  “And look what we have here.”

“A fine specimen of the Walkus Shamicus.”

“Where is your paramour, Moony?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.  I didn’t bring anyone back to the room last night.”  

“Alright, ok,” Pris said with narrowed eyes.  “We’ll just wait here until he comes down.”

“If you must.”  Moony arched a brow and joined Pris against the back of the couch.  Jane’s stomach growled with hunger.

They waited.

And the only person who came down was Seren Black.  “Merlin’s saggy todger, I could eat a horse, ladies.”  With the force of concentrated evil, she barrelled into Moony and looped her arm around her waist.  “Are we waiting for someone?”

They sent Evans’ cat up for a check.  But, of course, no one was up there.

 

**21**

“You know, I really hate this place.”  

Moony looked up from the fortress of books she had acquired, through a maze of parchment, and smiled.  After a considerable amount of thought on the matter, she supposed she had fallen for Seren Black.  This was probably inevitable.   _Everyone_ fell in love with Seren Black.  And they had been having practice sex for nearly six months.  “Why? It’s never done anything to you.”

“ _Au contraire_ ,” Seren said, leaning back in the chair with her legs propped on the edge of the table.  She was short, but she had a lot of leg.  “It is seriously cutting in my practice time.”

“Is every _other_ night not enough for you?”  It took her a moment to realize, but it actually sounded… smooth.  Almost flirty.

Seren was _inordinately_ pleased.  For whatever reason, she liked it when Moony made references to practicing in public.  “No.”  There was the clatter of her chair as she dropped her legs and pitched forward.  “I wish I had the cloak.”

“Random tangent.”

“No.  I would pop your flies and suck you until you came.”

Ok, maybe she _could_ still blush.  She managed to cough out an _Oh._  Moony looked up at Seren, thoughtful.  “Maybe you need to augment practice with something, er, someone else?”  No, she didn’t want that at all.  

“No,” Seren said with a quiet finality.  “I’m waiting for someone to ask me out.”

“A particular someone?  Or are we speaking generally?”  Moony thought a particular someone would be the better answer.  She could accept - maybe? - giving up Seren for someone.  But not the idea that she wanted anyone but her.   _But of course she wants someone other than you.  You won’t even take your clothes off._

“Oh, a _very particular someone_.”  Moony could feel Seren’s eyes boring holes into her head, but refused to look up.  “Aren’t you going to ask me who it is?”  

Moony closed her book.  “No, not really.”  She ran a hand through her hair.  “I think I’ve had enough.  I think I’m going to bed.”

She left Seren in the library with some excuse and ended up outside the school.  It was cold, but with the promise of Spring behind it.  She would be 18 in a few weeks.  Just that morning McGonagall had counseled her on what steps Hogwarts would take in securing her a place at a Muggle University.  And Smethwyck would be there after Easter Hols.  To tell her whether all these _things_ had to do with being a werewolf.

Maybe she could explain why she liked girls.  Or girl, really.  Or why she thought it would be a good idea to mix friendship with sex.  As her life wasn’t complicated enough.  “Well, Liz, I’ve certain done it to myself again,” she laughed, back on the cold grass.  “Complicating my life.  Needlessly.”  

Moony may have been a 17-year-old werewolf-witch, but sometimes she needed her mother and hot milk.  

 

**22**

She woke up the next morning stiff and grimy.  Eyes opening, she realized she was in the Shrieking Shack, where she’d ended up, tangled in the tattered bedding she’d spelled to some cohesion.  As much as being a werewolf sucked, there was something comforting about it, too.  There would always be a full moon.  It was dependable.  Consistent.  This time during Easter Hols, so she would be home.  With Mum and Dad, Gran and Grandda.  

It was early, so she snuck into the kitchen for something to eat (she was fucking starving) before heading up to the dorm.  Jane was gone already - probably for a Quidditch run - and Pris was quietly snoring in her bunk.  Her own curtains were down - not particularly unusual these days - and when she pulled them back she saw that Seren was sleeping there.  

The curtains must have been spelled because nothing short of the End of Days would have woken Pads that early on a Sunday morning.  “Where have you been?”  She was a tiny, dark-haired dervish.  And Moony was really happy to see her, one side of her hair matted and squinting into the _very_ early light.  

“I went for a walk and decided to sleep at the Shack.”

“By yourself?”  Pads yawned.

“I’m not entirely sure if you realize this, but it’s highly unlikely that anyone would agree to go to a haunted house with me.”  Pads was so… beautiful.  “Do you know how attractive you are?”  It was out before she could school it.  Ah, well.  Four months to go and it was unlikely that they’d stop being friends even if Pads started seeing someone else.

“Very.”

“And how modest you are?”

“The most modest.”  And then she peeled up the shirt she was wearing - Moony’s, actually - and she was completely naked beneath.  Because, of course.  “You should come here.”  When Moony vacillated, Seren added, “Right now, actually.”

“Oh, alright.”  Not really a hard decision.  Because she was a masochist.  She cast a quick cleaning charm on her clothes and then tucked into the warm space Seren had left behind.  As soon as she was in bed, Seren spelled the curtains closed and cast a very vocal _silencio_.  Surprisingly, Seren only wrapped around her.  She made no move towards molestation.  Very willing molestation.  Which was both a relief… and disappointing.

“Why did you sleep in the Shack?”  Seren asked quietly, tucked under Moony’s arm.  

“Because it was warmer than down by the lake.”  Seren pinched her.  “I’m going to have a bruise, brat.”

“No you won’t, Moony.  Now,” Seren’s voice was suddenly very stern.  “Tell me a true thing and stop evading me.”

“What kind of a true thing?”

“Something in your head that is real.  For you.”

“Hrm…” There were a lot of things going through her mind and she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to divulge all - maybe any? - of them.  “Well, I’m fairly certain I’m going to fail arithmancy.”

Seren snorted.  “Like you’re going to need it for Muggle University.”

“A fail is a fail is a fail, Pads.”

“All relative.”  Seren flapped her hand around, dismissing it completely.  “Tell me something that I don’t know about you.  Even if it’s boring.”

“Um… well, I like the smell of your hair.”  Seren’s entire body told Moony that she really liked that truth.  “When you wash it.”

“Ha ha, very funny.  Well, I like the smell of your hair.  Until you wash it.”

“Well, we don’t all have fancy French shampoos now do we?”

“We’ll have them when you move into my flat.”

“Oh, I’m definitely moving in then am I?”

“How will you survive without me?  You’re all stuffy and martyr-like - which is annoying, you know - and completely _oblivious_.”

“To what?”

“To… _things_.”

“Wow, your specificity is mind-blowing.”  Moony followed that up with a snort.  “And I would remind you that you would freeze to death without me.”

“True.”

“What if I went to school in Ireland or something?”

“I’m rich, Moony.  I would buy you a lasting portkey or something.”  A beat of silence.  “Or I could buy a place in Ireland.  I suppose.”

Moony laughed and tapped her nose.  “You’re so spoilt.”  And then she stilled.  “I don’t know if I could watch you seeing other people.”  Moony tensed, looking at the shape that was Seren through her lashes.

But Seren was up like a shot.  Her grey eyes were bright and very, very excited.  “Then you should give me a reason not to.”

“Syphilis?  Condoms?”

More eye-rolling.  “C’mon, Moony.  Be the hypothetical not you who wants to be my boyfriend.”

“But I’m a … girl?”  That Moony rather unsure at the end.  

“Relevancy?”  

“Are you… asking me out?”  Moony needed clarification.  She needed it _right now_.  Because her heart had stopped working right and she didn’t want to die.

“Actually,” Seren said it as if she were talking to a child, “I’m trying to coax you into asking _me_ out.  I do all the work in this relationship.”

“Oh my God,” Moony said.  Mind.  Blown.  “Oh my God, have we been… _dating_?”  Seren gave her the _do-you-even-know-me_ look.  “Couldn’t you have just, I don’t know, said something?  Why are you always so devious?”  But there was no rancor.  Not even a little.

“I’m a Black, Moony.  You really need to step up your game here.  I have standards.”

Moony started laughing.  For real - perhaps frantic - laughter.  “Obviously not if you want to be with a werewolf.”

“But it’s dead sexy, right?”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”  Seren didn’t answer.  Just traced Moony’s mouth with a finger.  

“Let me show you.”

And she did.

 

**23**

“Ugh.”

“You _always_ make that sound when you’re at the library,” Seren said, raising her head up.  “Maybe you need to stop coming to a place that causes you so much anguish.”

“I can’t study in the Common Room.  Watching Pris and Corner causes me mental anguish.  Or Jane and Evans.”

“True.”  The late afternoon sunlight - they had a last period free - traced over Seren’s neat black ponytail and her skin where she’d loosened her tie and popped the top button.  The tip of her quill was in her mouth as she looked down at her notes.  She looked up and looked… suspicious.  “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“Like right this second?”  But Moony could see that she was 100% invested in the conversation.  “I’m sort of busy, you know.  All this revising.  And having to make polite conversation with you.”

“I didn’t mean tonight.”

“Why not tonight?”

“You know you’re a pain in the arse, right?”

“It’s that thing we talked about.  Standards.  What’ve you got on the table, Moony?”  Now Seren was looking at her like McGonagall would during a test.  Hopeful, but withholding comment.  

“I, er, I actually didn’t get that far in my head.  Before I asked you.”  Seren was looking more and more like McGonagall - very unimpressed.  “I guess we could just go out to the Lake or something?”

“Ok,” Moony perked up, because maybe this wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be.  “I’m going to take pity on you.  Because you’re sexy.”  Would the blushing ever end?  “Let’s Floo to London this weekend.”

“We can’t just leave Hogwarts, Pads.”

“I can get Alphard to excuse us.  No problem.”  Seren had her Uncle wrapped around her finger.  “Just don’t tell Potter.”

“Tell me what?”  Jane asked, sauntering in behind them.  She had a huge bruise on her cheek - compliments of Quidditch - and her hair was only still off her face by virtue of a single hair pin.  Her wand was, not unexpectedly, behind her right ear.  Moony still hadn’t quite figured out how it actually stayed there.

“That if I find your knickers under the couch again, Potter, I’m going to write home to the Mater.”

Jane snorted.  “LIke she would believe you.  My mother knows I’m an angel.”

“I can’t believe she’s still deluded,” Moony added, closing her arithmancy book.  “You would think with all the detentions…”

“I’m forced to room with a rough crowd.”  Jane laughed.  Mrs Potter, who did not think Jane was entirely an angel anymore, adored the Marauders.  Or her “children.”  Having a second mother had it’s benefits.  Food baskets, sweets, and that sort of thing.  “Moony,” Jane said, leaning over.  “What doesn’t Seren want to tell me?”

“Why do you always think I’m the weak link?”

“Because I know you want to tell me.  You believe in authority, Moony.  And I am your Head Girl.”

“If you must know,” Seren said.  “We were planning your - very timely - demise.”

“Oh, like that’s a surprise.”  Jane slunk into the third chair at their table with a grace that in no way existed.  “So what are we doing for your birthday, Moony?  The usual?”  Firewhiskey - or some alcoholic beverage - and chaos.  

“I think this is the point in the conversation where I try to dissuade you and then eventually give in, right?”

Both Jane and Seren nodded.  Because, obviously.

“Don’t worry, we have your back.”  Coming from Seren Black, her _girlfriend_ (that was taking some getting used to), it was the most untrustworthy thing ever.

“I just… I just don’t want to see any arses this time.  Yours or random bystanders.”

“Your wishes will be considered.”

 

**24**

“So this is it?”  Being two juvenile delinquents - well, at least one of them was - Moony and Seren had started their escape from Hogwarts at Seren’s flat.  

“Yes!”  Seren was full to bursting with excitement.  “I know it doesn’t look like much now.  But I have plans.”

“I’m sure they’re brilliant.”  Moony didn’t really care about that sort of thing.  She just liked a place to sleep.  And a bunker for full moons.  But Seren did and Moony liked when she was excited.

Seren arched a dark brow, a very confident smile on her face.  Sometimes it was a little scary to give so much power over oneself to Pads.  “Let’s go see London!”

Which was essentially hours in Chelsea going through dress racks and watching Seren try on everything and Moony offering to carry things.  Finally, Seren was convinced to stop for a cuppa and _food_.  Moony was fucking starving.  “You must take pity on your average lycanthrope, Pads.  We can be dangerous when we’re hungry.”

“Sounds like a promise.”

Seren desperately wanted to - for whatever reason - go on the Tube.  So Moony helped her with the money and tickets.  It was a crush and Moony used her body to stop people from knocking Seren over.  One commuter walked into Moony and literally bounced off her and into the man behind him.  Moony was a lot more substantial than she looked.  A werewolf was a werewolf all the time.  Not just when the claws were out.  Pardons were passed.  With the frequent addendum of _sir_.

It was the first time anyone had called Moony a _he_.  “Are you alright?”  Seren had her arm firmly on Moony’s arm.  She’d cast a leashing charm - one usually used with children - so they wouldn’t lose each other.  

“Oh, yes.  How are you?”

“I think I seriously overestimated how exciting pedestrian transport would be.”  Moony couldn’t help but laugh.  “What?”

“You are so bloody posh,” to which Seren swatted her arse.  “Shall we?”  Moony motioned back up the stairs and Seren quickly followed.  When they were safely above ground, they found an abandoned alley and apparated back to Seren’s flat.

“I don’t think I want to do that again.”  And then Seren summoned a house elf - _of course_ \- for tea and biscuits for Moony.  “Are you alright?”

Moony snapped her head back from where it had fallen back on the back of the white leather couch.  “Yes.”  Seren’s look said that wasn’t going to be a sufficient answer.  “It’s just… it’s just that I’ve never been called a _sir_ before.”

Seren said nothing, hovering a bit as she was waiting for Moony to tell her whether she should go curse someone.  Was _she_ pleased?  

“It’s okay.  I don’t...mind, actually,” she finally said, shrugging off the wool blazer - the wearing of which was non-negotiable with Seren - and giving Pads what she hoped was a reassuring look.  “You don’t have to hex anyone today.”

“I would have.”

“I don’t doubt it.  I’ve seen your Tickling Hex.”  Moony stowed her feelings for later consideration, but said, “Besides, I’m a werewolf.”  And then because it made her think about the song, Moony mouthed the lyrics, “I'm gonna keep my sheep suit on until I'm sure that you've been shown that I can be trusted walking with you alone.”

Seren’s eyes went silver.  “Is that so?”

“Oh, it’s a song,” Moony explained, weakly, as Seren was walking over towards her.

“No, I want to hear more of this sheep suit you’ve been wearing.”

“It’s actually a school uniform.”  But Seren was _standing in front of her_.  In nothing but that stupid floral dress that barely covered her arse and barefoot.  When had she removed her platform heels?  

“Moooooony…” she dragged out the name like taffy.  “It’s time for practice.”

“Is it?”  Moony definitely was not cut out for the smooth life.  Her voice cracked a bit and she was in desperate need of water.

“What can I do to you that makes you feel the way you make me feel?”  

“How do I make you feel?”

“Like _fiendfyre._ ”

“That’s probably not a good thing, you know.”  Moony swallowed, because she was Moony and Seren was Seren.   _Standing in front of her_.  

“Are you going to keep being annoying or are you going to tell me what to do?”

“Well… I’m probably always going to be annoying.  But I’m also going to comply since you’re...cute.”

“Beautiful, Moony.”

“Alright, beautiful then.”

“So what can I do?”  Seren was radiating with excitement.  Which _was_ cute.  If she hadn't already divested her wand - God knows where she was carrying it anyway - Moony would have been concerned about spontaneous casting.

“I’m going to let you take off my shirt,”  Moony said, the words dragged out of her.  Seren drew in a sharp breath.  “But I have to ask that if I… if I change my mind… if I ask you to stop… that you’ll… stop.”

The lack of a hasty _of course_ was actually rather reassuring.  Seren took Moony’s chin, gently, and leaned over.  She had to file herself between Moony’s legs to get close enough.  “I will only do what you want me to do.  As little or as much as you let me.  And you should always tell me if you don’t like something.  Otherwise I’ll just go on believing I’m Merlin’s gift to Moony…”

Moony kissed her, because she was Merlin’s gift to Moony.  And Seren climbed onto the couch, very careful to not crowd her.  Until Moony pulled her closer, which was easy because the leather couch helped with sliding things closer, and really started to appreciate Seren’s floral dress.  Whoever designed that thing was a genius.  

Pulling away from the kiss - and hand firmly on the bottom curve of Seren’s arse - Moony said, “You can do it.”  Seren hesitated and Moony said, “What I mean is.   _Please_ do it.”

With deft fingers, Seren undid the first bone button of the canvas school shirt.  When she got to the last button - what felt like hours later - Moony tensed a bit waiting for some sort of a judgment.  “You know,” Seren said.  “You’ve been talking up your scars all these years.  I’m not sure you’re as punk rock as you led me to believe.”  Seren had found one of the tiny, knotted seams on her torso and was tracing it.  Completely avoiding the huge scar under her left breast.  

Moony laughed, feeling quite… relieved, actually.  “I’ll have you know that my scars are very impressive.”

“Oh, yes.  But more importantly, where are your _foundation garments_ , Moony?  I’m seeing a double standard.”  Moony blushed.  Of course.

“I don’t need them.  Not when I have a jumper on.  Or the blazer.”

“So you’re telling me,” Seren’s eyes sparkled.  “That at any given time, I can look at you and you’re not wearing anything under your shirt?”  Moony’s body definitely reacted to the throatiness of Seren’s voice.  Obviously she was heeling to Seren’s Pavlov.

“Yes.”

“I like that.  I like that a lot.”  Seren leaned closer, which Moony wasn’t sure was humanly possible and then asked, “ _Can I_?”  She had her hand on the edge of the open shirt, careful not to touch flesh.

“Sure.”  Moony croaked.  So, so not cut out for the smooth life.

The first touch was hesitant, a forefinger dragging over her throat and collarbone followed by her mouth.  And then her tongue.  Seren touched and kissed and licked all of Moony’s scars.  She paid particular attention to the original scar and then found the second on her arm.  She charted Moony’s abdomen, the straightness of her waist, and the jut of her hip bones under the skin, hidden beneath her trousers and pants.  

And then, with her palm anchored against Moony’s rib, she brushed the dark buds of Moony’s nippes with her thumb.  “They’re so much darker than mine.”  There was an awe to it, coupled with long, long minutes of rubbing that had caused every hair on Moony’s body to stand on end.  

Seren disassembled and reformed the dark buds of her breasts with her tongue until Moony was arching into her.  She was going to snap.  She could feel it.  “ _Ser-en_ …”

“ _Um hum_ ,” Seren agreed with whatever she had taken from Moony’s panting of her name.  “Can I touch you?  I want to slide my finger against you.  I want you to come on my hand.”

Moony one-handed the flies of her trousers, making enough clearance for Seren’s hand.  And _oh my God_ , why hadn’t she ever let Pads do this before?  She was aching, physically aching, and the moment that Seren’s small warm hands touched her she had completely lost it.  Her hips were moving of their own volition.  And she was on fire.  Everything against her skin was on fire.  

And then it came - _she came_ \- with a shuddering rush that felt like falling over a cliff.

“ _Ooh_ ,” Seren said, “ _I can feel you pulsing_.”  

Moony only managed a breathless _hmm._

 

**25**

“I’m not entirely sure that tagging the exterior of Hogwarts with magic _spray paint_ is really the sort of thing I had in mind for my birthday,” Moony said the following weekend.  

“A correction,” Pris explained, “We are misusing muggle artifacts, Moony.”

“Yeah, we’re telling a story here.”

“The story of … what exactly?”  None of the Marauders were particularly good artists.  “I can see that’s a tree at least.”

“This is the epic reteling of our first foray into the Forbidden Forest, Moony,” Jane said, a spray-painted arm around her shoulder, narrowly missing Moony’s face with the can of spray paint she had.  Red.  “That one is you.”

“Why is one ear bigger than the other?”

“Details.  So trivial.  You have to consider the big picture here.  Like this,” Jane walked her over to a section which, upon squinting, did look like a unicorn.  Or a goat taken at profile.  “When we were guided to salvation by our fair friend.”

“As I recall, _our fair friend_ pretty much helped us to get away from me.”  Unicorns, Moony learned, did not like werewolves very much.  Seren forced a can of spray paint into Moony’s hands.

“You need to draw the part where I stopped the giant spider with a stick.”  On a sigh, because Moony really was having a good time, she depicted this the best she could.  Which was no better or worse than anyone else.  It had been impressive when Seren had smacked the (not quite) giant spider with a stick.  Although not before it had taken a bite out of Pris’ calf.  It had been very difficult to explain that to Pomfrey.  Let alone McGonagall.

After the jury - the Marauders - were satisfied with their work, Pris vanished the cans and they all went down to the Shrieking Shack, via the Whomping Willow.  There, to no one’s surprise, firewhiskey and a groaning table of cakes and crisps and puddings existed.  And there was a fire in the rather dismal front room of the Shack - which was really rather more like a house.  But the Marauders had papered it in yellow, fixed over the scratches and crumbling plaster, and it was comfortable.

Where they then took turns reading out very salacious passages from wizarding romance novels.  “Is that even possible?”  Moony asked.  “I mean, it’s bad enough that it’s a silken spear, for Merlin’s sake.”

“Why don’t you tell us?”  Pris said, rolling onto her stomach with a very determined look.

“What do you mean?”

“We all know,” Pris looked around at all the Marauders, “That you’ve found a loophole in the Hogwarts rules between fraternization in the dorm rooms.  And that you’re sleeping with someone.   _In the same room as us_.”  But she didn’t sound particularly disgusted about it.

“I don’t really care who it is,” Jane said, lying, “But I think we would all like to know how you’re doing it.  Particularly this one,” Jane elbowed Seren.  “Who has been forced these long months to sleep in closets or something.”  But there was something in Potter’s eyes.

“I never have to sleep in a closet,” Pads said, laying on her side.  She was looking at Moony, taking her bottom between her teeth.  Moony wondered if she was going to say something or whether she was leaving it up to Moony.  

“I swear I’m not smuggling _anyone_ into the dorm.  I would have definitely shared that with all of you.”

“Moony, you are the worst sharer ever,” Jane said on a laugh.  “You wouldn’t even tell me what size shirt you wore when I asked.”

“I didn’t want you to buy me one.”  And then Moony clapped her hand over her mouth.  Because she was raised with manners and shouldn’t say that outloud.   _Damned firewhiskey_.

“You didn’t tell me that.”  But Jane didn’t sound particularly upset.  More amused.  “It’s a good thing I know where the laundry is.”

“Oh, is it a girl?”  Pris asked, in no way sounding like this was a new thought.  Moony’s face flamed so hard that it was impossible to hide it.  “Oh, I’m right.”  

“Why is this so important?”  Moony was visibly squirming, so she took a long swallow of the firewhiskey.  Because it was at hand.  And she didn’t know what to do with her hands.  “I thought we were all enjoying these highly explicit passages.”

“Well, I think you should all be asking _me_ questions,” Seren said, drawing the attention - as she always did - towards her.  “I will answer anything.  And maybe even honestly.”

“We already know everything about you, Pads,” Jane said on a groan.  And then started listing off the highlights, “First glass of wine, 8.  Animagi, 14.  Lost your virginity, 15.  Conquests… what is it now?  12?”

“More or less.”  Moody looked at Seren.  Who _winked_ at her.  Moony smiled at her, despite herself.  Encouraging Seren would lead nowhere good.  But she was so cute.  “But it depends on whether it’s just snogging or anything else.  Cause that changes things.”

Pris fiddled with the fire with her wand, levitating a log into the center of it.  It was a nice touch that they’d created a real, well, sort of, fire.  

“Is it true that you have a tattoo on your right thigh?”  Pris asked.

“You see me every day.  What do you think?”

“I think you would look… brilliant… with a tattoo on your right thigh,” Moony said, imagining finding the black ink on her white skin.  And licking it.  Moony was blushing again.  

“Ok,” Seren said, without thinking it over.  “I’ll get one.  A giant…” she held the pause for a while, “Wolf.”

“Are you two just going to snog and stop the pretense?”  Jane groaned, still lying on her back.

“I’m sorry?”  Moony was gripping the firewhiskey hard enough that it was starting to flex in her grip.  She lightened up before it broke.

“In the Fourth Year of the Marauder’s Era, four precocious witches came together and created an artifact of unique powers.  One of which was showing Moony and Pads’ dots on top of each other.   _All the time_.”

Pris started laughing.  “I really think you need to work on your silencing charms before the NEWTs.  You’re both pants at it.”

“AND,” Jane added, rolling onto her stomach.  “If I find another pair of _your_ panties,” she directed her ire to Pads, “Under my bed there are going to be more than words.”

“Admit that you thought they were yours,” Seren said, although she was looking at Moony with her large grey eyes.  Moony could feel them on her, hot and worried.  No one seemed to be surprised nor particularly alarmed.

“Never!”

“It’s alright, you know,” Pris said turning her brown eyes to Moony.  “I think you can do a LOT better than Pads.  But if you must?”  She shrugged and Moony breathed.  

“I just want to know how both of you _didn’t_ fall in love with her after doing what you did together?”  Moony asked.

“What did we do together?”  Prongs asked Pads directly, completely confused.  Seren looked like she’d just been hit in the face.  Although she recovered quickly and then looked like damage control may be in order.  

“I do care for Pads in a way,” Pris said at the same time.  “A very tenuous way at times.”

“I don’t think---” Seren was cut off when Moony said,

“Like practice sex together.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing.  “Seren Black.”  Prongs said, her eyes snapping back to Seren.  Seren had already jumped up and clapped a hand over Moony’s mouth.  Strictly harder than she needed to in Moony’s opinion.

Pris had turned a puce color and was gagging.  

“I don’t know why everyone assumes everything is my fault.”

“Because Moony was - _is_ \- a pristine specimen of humanity.  Did you tell her that we - Pris and I - had _slept_ with you?”

Moony and Seren had a brief struggle with Seren’s fingers which Moony could have won in a second but she really wanted to hear what her girlfriend had to say.  “Well, it’s a complete misunderstanding of facts as presented.”

“Facts that added up to _our_ \- “ Pris moved her hand back and forth between herself and Seren, “Having seen each other’s --” She couldn’t even say it.  She just pointed to her nether region.

“In the interest of fairness,” Pads added, “I have seen your bits a time or two.”

“That is strictly besides the point.”  

And then Seren turned towards her.  “But more importantly,” she held up her hand to stay Jane and Pris, “Moony, you _love_ me?”  Since she couldn’t answer with Seren’s hand over her mouth, Moony nodded.  Because, well, she _shouldn’t_ , but she did.  “ _Oh_.”  

Hand was removed and Seren’s warm, cinnamony lips were on hers, over hers.  It was strange to be kissing Seren in public.  But a small thing to make her happy with so little.  At this point, Moony did drop the firewhiskey and there was a mad scramble behind them to retrieve it before all was irreparably lost.  

“It’s clear by your reflexes why Pads only slept with you once,” Jane was saying to Pris’ _Shut your mouth, you tart_.   _I had her first_.  

 

**26**

Later, much later, the fire had gone low - Moony had begged them as she was too hot - Seren was tucked tight against her chest.  Moony was infinitely fascinated how she fit so neatly there, head against Moony’s clavicle, arse fitted against her upper thighs.  There had been an epic rock-paper-scissors battle over the couch - magicked into a bed - with a sulking Jane transfiguring a vase into her own bed.  It looked very uncomfortable and slightly shiny but Jane had announced to everyone - mostly Pris on the bed - that she was sleeping there.

Seren and Moony had ended up on the floor.  Moony was grateful to have Seren’s body as a shield from the heat of the fire.  

“You know you could have just asked me, you know?  To do this.”

“Hardly,” Seren huffed back.  “The Moony of six months ago would have been astounded.”

“Probably.  But I got over it.  Rather quickly as I recall.”

“Yessss.”  

“You know you’re never going to hear the end of this.”

“It’s worth it.  There’s not been a big controversy in the dorm for too long.  Everyone needs to be kept on their toes.”  Seren was quiet for a while and then said - as Moony was starting to fall asleep, “M’master plan.”

“The tiniest Machiavelli.”

“You can’t be certain that I’m not larger than Machiavelli, Moony.”

“I’m fairly certain that _everyone_ is bigger than you are.”  But Moony had her hand on her abdomen - careful not to touch anything too sexual with Pris and Jane nearby - and pulled her closer.  “But you’re adorable.”

“Beautiful…” Seren said.  And she didn’t say anything more for quite a while.

 

**27**

Easter was fraught with pitfalls.

It was Mum’s favorite holiday.  Full of earth mothers and fertility rites and egg dyeing.  Moony didn't mind the egg dyeing - in fact, she rather liked it.  And the egg consumption.  It was the rest of it that was trying.  

“Rose,” Moony took a deep breath in through her nose and released it through her mouth.  “We need to have _the talk_.”

A teary eye as _you’re a young woman now, Rose._

She had rewritten Neil Diamond: _Girl, you are a woman, too._ Quite a lot of it, too _._  Enough to get stuck in one’s head.  Sometimes having a clever mom was really, really annoying.

“The… talk?”  Moony focused on her pink fingertips, the blue that she couldn’t clean - without magic - from beneath her nails.   _Liz, grant me the serenity_ … “Didn’t we have this talk in, I dunno, primary?”  Moony clearly recalled the obligatory birds and bees discussion.  Didn’t she?  Certainly it would not be something Mum would have left to chance.  She never passed up an opportunity to discuss natural human functions… or embarrass Moony.

“Er, no,” she said, jingling a bit as she took the seat _next to_ Moony.   _Oh God, this was happening_.  “We’ve been… I’ve been… remiss in my duties to you, love.  There was so much going on at that time…” Obviously lycanthropic in nature, “And well, now that you’ve crossed a particular Rubicon, it would be completely remiss of me to not have the talk.”

“Mum,” breathing in through the nose, out through the mouth.  “I’m 18 years old.  I know the basics of _that sort of thing_.”

“You can’t even say it, Rose,” another jingle as her Mum moved her arms.  She had at least fourteen bangles on her right wrist.  And a very determined look in her brown eyes.  How long had she been preparing this siege?  Months, no doubt.  “I don’t want you to feel shame.  Intimacy - sex - between a man and a woman is a beautiful, lovely thing.  But it, er, can have consequences of course.”  

“Like children.  I know, Mum.”  Moony’s brain whirred frantically.  There had to be a way to stop this madness.  Her face was already on fire and she knew she was going to melt through the floorboards at this rate.  A puddle of mortified flesh and not-quite-feminine bones left behind.  “Mum.  They’ve gone through all this at College.  I don’t have to worry about children or diseases or all that stuff.  There are potions, right?”

“I don’t know about all that magic stuff, Rose.  I got you this,” and a brown bag revealed all manner of goods.  Foil wrapped condoms and birth control pills - how on earth she’d got them without a script was anyone’s guess - and some sort of… edible?... jelly.  Lastly, a metallic pink thing came out of the bag with a cord as an ersatz tail, rumbling on the table as it performed some sort of a motorized dance.  It was a pink metal… robot cock.  Moony had never seen anything like it in her life.  

She flinched as it vibrated inexorably towards her.  “Mum.  What is _that_?”  

“It’s a vibrator, Rose.  It’s used for clitoral stimulation.”

“Why is it shaped like… like a…”. Was she actually going to say the word in front of Mum, who was looking at her like she was on the verge of satisfying her life’s goal?  More importantly, was this actually happening at Gram’s table with potato salad under foil and a goose in the oven?  “Mum, we have to _eat_ at this table!”

“Oh for Heaven’s sake, Rose.  It’s just a sex toy.”

“ _On the table_.”

At that point, Gran came in.  She had her second-best apron on and a kerchief over her curlers.  “Good Lord, Hope.  We have to eat at this table.”

*

So she squatted in the Queen’s Cupboard, arms across her chest, trying to hide.  Liz looking down at her.   _Stiff upper lip, Lupin_.  She could do this.  She loved her family.  She loved her Mum. _I love Mum.  She is barmy as fuck, but I love her._  Maybe she could live here.  In the Cupboard Loo under the stairs.  Forever.  Apparating to King’s Cross in three days.  And then only occasional visits from University.  Sex toy _free_ visits from University.  To the Cupboard Loo under the stairs.  

“I mean,” she said, looking at Liz.  “Why does it have to be in the shape of a cock?  And it has a cord, right?  So it would have to go into a socket.”  She ran a hand through her curls.  “How is this normal?”

 _She’s been in there an awful long time._ Dad, definitely Dad.   _Do you think the potato salad’s gone bad_.

_I did warn you about keeping it on the counter.  It should have gone into the icebox._

_There wasn’t any room_.

*

Pads showed up the next day.  “I got your OWL.  Let’s see it then.”  It actually glittered in the light from the window.  Moony had already cast a _muffliato_ and her strongest _colloportus_ on the door.  Just in case.  “Merlin’s todger, Moony, you own a pink robot cock.”

“Yes,” Moony said faintly, “Yes, I do.”

“But what does it do?”  It looked rather sad on Moony’s bed.  “I mean,” Seren said with great thought, “It looks rather dangerous, right?”  She _picked it up_.  “It’s not bendy at all.  And it’s, er, rather endowed, right?”

Moony, who had never seen a real one, shrugged.  “I have no idea.”  A moment’s pause and then, “I think we should burn it.”

“No!”  Moony was rather shocked by her vehemence.  “Do you even realize the potential this thing has?”

“I can’t say I do.”

“Moony,” Seren had her shoulders and to make this possible she had the robot cock up against Moony’s body.  “This is pranking _galleons_.”

“It, er, doesn’t even work if it’s not plugged in, Pads.  And electricity doesn’t work at Hogwarts, remember?”

“We are clever, enterprising young ladies, Moony.  And this thing is going under Prongs’ pillow.”

  


**28**

Healer Smethwyck was a witch in her mid-seventies.  She had worked with St Mungo’s for over five decades and had worked with St Mungo’s Residents for almost as long.  “I remember you,” she said as soon as Moony entered Pomfrey’s office.  “January 1965."

Moony didn’t remember her at all.  
  
“Before the Troubles,” the Squib Rights marches of the late 1960s and early ‘70s.  The Ministry still had the Dark Creatures Law, Section 6 - Lycanthropes - until 1964.  It had only been modified in late 1964 after a twenty-seven day session of the Wizengamut wherein Amelia Bones had single-handedly kept the floor.  Without sleeping.  Just in time to save Moony from institutionalization, although not specifically for her.  Of course, things had been very unknown at that time.  Thus the benefit of having parents who ran guns.  Or the backing of Newt Scamander.  Moony wasn't sure how many of the lycanthropes who were admitted to St Mungos ever came out.  “You look like you’re doing alright for yourself.”  
  
Moony nodded, not entirely able to read Smethwyck.    
  
“Well, have a seat Lupin,” Pomfrey said and the green leather chair nearest Moony slid away for her.  She sank into it, but stayed at the edge of the seat.  “I’ve had this chocolate since Easter and I’ll never eat it all.”  
  
It was only polite to assist.  
  
While she had a bunny ear in her mouth, Smethwyck said, “I just wanted to start out by saying that there is absolutely nothing wrong with you.  In a health sense.  You are probably the healthiest person I've ever had the privilege of studying."  It felt very odd to be 'studied.'  A little like a pinned butterfly under cold observation.  "If you don't make it to three digits, I would eat my hat."  
  
"I'm not certain I want to live that long," Moony said, honestly.  She couldn't imagine going through the change every month for hundreds of years.  It sounded like hell, actually.  It never stopped hurting.  And Jane and Pris and Seren wouldn't be there forever.  
  
Neither Pomfrey nor Smethwyck said anything to that.  Moony wasn't sure what they could say.  
  
"I'm not certain how much that is impacted by your lycanthropy.  But," Smethwyck pulled out a much-thumbed folio, "One of my Residents, Healer Halwends, was extremely curious about your situation," She almost choked on her chocolate. as her fists went white as clutching the chair tighter.  "I didn't tell him who it was."  Wary, but her heart rose into her chest again.  "But he's particularly interested in lycanthropy - requested to apprentice in the Dai Llewellyn ward, actually - because his brother is a werewolf."  
  
Moony had never met another werewolf.  Her parents - and Uncle Scaddy - had demanded that any medical services rendered her had to be done in the privacy of her family's home.  She had never even been to St Mungo's.  And Merlin help her, she never wanted to be.  Sometimes, though, she dreamt about it.  Awful, sheet-twisting dreams.  Based on stories of a TB asylum that had once employed quite a bit of her village.  
  
When she said nothing, Smethwyck took that as a sign to continue.  "As Pomfrey has told you, there is a great dearth of unprejudiced literature on lycanthropy in Wizarding literature.  However, we were able to tease out some facts from obvious fiction.  And there are muggle accounts that also give some information."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes.  In 1613, a Maester Gotesburg stumbled upon a reputed village of lycanthropes upon which he noted in a journal some years later.  He did not know they were werewolves until they enjoined him to lock himself in a firm home on the evening of the full moon.  He recalled that wolves of a peculiar form - larger than any wolves he had chanced upon, although by this time most wolves in Europe had been hunted to extinction - watched the home throughout the night.  There were two adult wolves, both of a like size, and two cubs.  A line or two in earlier manuscripts elude to, what we believe, is a slight if not non-existant sexual dimorphism in werewolves.  To prove this, we would like to collect measurement data.  But, for obvious reasons, it has been difficult to get lycanthropes - many scarred by their experiences with the Ministry - to agree."  
  
"Do they look like me?"  She asked.  "When they're human."  She thought of her muscles, the broadness of her features, her discomfort with being 'Rose.'  
  
"No," Smethwyck said.  "But you have to remember that St Mungo's only sees a very limited number of lycanthropes."  
  
"What does it mean?"  An attempt to calm herself.  "So it's possible that... what?  I'm not sure what this means."  Moony's head was swimming, but she ventured, "That I'm not entirely... female... anymore?"  
  
"I don't think it means that."  
  
"But you're not sure, right?"  There was a high note to Moony's voice that she wasn't particularly proud of, believing herself to be rather good at keeping her emotions in check.  
  
"We know that lycanthropes are able to reproduce, Lupin," Smethwyck said, a hand on Pomfrey's arm.  "So it stands to reason that you may very well do so.  Although, of course, that is not the only determiner of one's sex."  
  
"It is to my Mother."  Oh my God, her mother was going to be... disappointed?  Upset?  
  
Panic.  Did she really want someone to confirm her fears?   _But the Tower still let her into the Gryff girl's dorm_ , her mind reminded her.  She hadn't realized how long she had been panicking until Pomfrey came over and said, "Drink this, dear."  A calming draught.    
  
"I'm so sorry to have brought you such a lack of definitive answers, Lupin.  But we - Healer Halwends and myself - are still working on this.  Halwends," Smethwyck's voice had gone softer, "He would like to meet you.  But it's completely your decision.  I would never force you into anything you didn't want to do."  
  
"I don't know."  
  
When Moony stumbled out of the hospital ward, she wasn't sure what to do.  Was something to be done?  Could she do anything?  She had just been home.  There was also... a sense of relief?  It felt almost like a betrayal to feel that way.  Yet it was there.  
  
She felt like crying.  Something she never did.  Not even when she was twisted or torn or broken.  So instead of heading back to the Tower, she went outside.  Walking beyond the boundaries of Hogwarts' anti-apparition boundary and apparated.    
  
She didn't care where.  And ended up in Farand Woods, not far from home.

 

  
**29**  
  
Moony was gone for four days.    
  
Long enough that her calming draught had completely worn off.  Enough that she transfigured herself a tent and used warming spells instead of a fire.  Her school kit was wrecked after it rained on the second day.    
  
On the fourth day, she could hear the jingle and creak of a caravan passing very nearby.    
  
"You can come out, Longshanks," Uncle Scaddy said.  "Let me tell you, I've had the devil of a time finding you.  I'm not trying to guilt you, but the rain's bad for my rheumatism and I'd like to get indoors.  Thankfully, I've brought it with me."  Moony came out.  Later, she would realize it was a clever stratagem to send Scaddy instead of her parents.  Or god-forbid, McGonagall.  She probably would have caned her - if Hogwarts did that sort of thing.  "You look a mess.  And like you need to eat."  
  
Chagrined, Moony accepted his hospitality.  "I'm starving."  And then, "I don't want anyone to come out here.  I don't think I could handle that yet."  
  
"Well, it's a good thing I only have two teacups then."    
  
Scaddy's caravan had all the amenities of home - it was his home for most of the year - including a wood stove, a shower, and most importantly a well-stocked pantry.  Cleaned up and tea in hand, she took a tentative seat across from Scaddy.  "You'll have to forgive an old man, Longshanks, but I did have to send my patronus to your parents.  And then on to Dumbledore."  
  
"I suppose you had to."  
  
"So I'm not going to pretend the understand the mind of an 18-year-old person.  I have too much age behind me to remember it.  But what in Merlin's name is going on with you?  It's not like you to do something like this."  
  
"I just... I just am sort of... in a strange place."  
  
"In a caravan in Farand's Woods during the school year.  I'd say yes."  But he was smiling.  The ugliest lawn gnome in the world was watching them from a patch of astroturf - god only knows where he got that - not too fussed to move.  "Does this have anything to do with the Ministry?"  
  
"Oh, no.  No, it's not that."  She wouldn't put it past Scaddy to drive them to London and start cursing.  And he was quite a bit older than he looked.  
  
"Alright, since I'm going to have to drag it out of you, I'll start at the top," he peeled a finger from around his teacup.  "Exam stress?"  No.  "Not the Ministry, but Wizarding thing?"  No.  "Hrm... boy trouble?"  Emphatic no.  Although a quick pang that she had completely forgotten about Seren throughout this.  Seren who had absolutely no idea what was going on with her.  Merlin, she was a mess.  "I've narrowed it down to lycanthropy."  
  
"Maybe?"  And then she told him about Pomfrey and Smethwyck.  About how she felt different, but didn't know how to explain it more than that.  How she had a girlfriend - which she nearly died admitting, although a little proud, too - and that she was certain her Mum was going to kill her.  She did not bring up menstruation to an 80 year-old-man.  She just... couldn't do it.  
  
"I'm not going to tell you that I know what you're going through.  But I am completely fascinated by the idea that your lycanthropy is having an effect on your muggle form."  
  
Of course.  "Of course that would be the one thing you'd home in on."  
  
"I can't begin to tackle all the other things.  But I do have a niche.  I am, after all, the author of the formative - and _only_ \- textbook on Fantastic Creatures, Longshanks."  Scaddy plopped another cube of sugar in his tea.  "What would you think about... finding the werewolf who bit you?"  
  
"Do you think they're still there?  They never found anything."  Moony found that she was actually excited.  Like she was actively doing something about all the weight on her chest.  
  
"Only one way to find out, is there?"  
  
"How long do you think it would take?"  
  
"I have no idea.  But I have nothing on the docket for the foreseeable future.  So as soon as I take you back to school, I'll head out.  But as payment," she tensed a bit, because she really didn't have a lot of money.  "You're going to have to do some work on the Preserve this Summer.  They're working on new pens for the hatchlings - which, as you know are fractious and 'large' - and we could use a confused teenage Hercules."    
  
He was laughing and Moony was too.    


 

**30**

  
"So I owe you an apology," Moony said in early April, stretched out on the Great Lawn with Seren beside her.  Seren was nearly on top of her, a Velco Pads for the past week, and they were holding hands.  Moony thought she would tell Pads first and then the rest of the Marauders.  If it went alright.  
  
"Yes, you do."  Seren had not let her off easily, channelling her inner McGonagall.  And Moony sort of needed that.  Although perhaps not the week's worth of lost classes and detention.    
  
"So I'm going to tell you some true things.  From my head," Seren vibrated with interest and Moony rolled over and propped her weight on her forearms so she could look at her.  "But let me get through it all first, okay?  And then you can ask me questions or run away or... whatever."  
  
"I'm not going to run away."  Seren said with her stubborn jaw squared.  
  
"Alright, alright."  Moony took a breath.  "So.  I'm a werewolf, right?"  Seren looked less than impressed, but did not say anything.  "And it, um, it's made me different, right?  More than a voracious eater.  Obviously, my body has changed.  A lot.  Mostly since the end of Sixth Year.  I'm, um, more masculine, right?  We... Pomfrey and the Healers at St Mungo's... think that it has something to do with the werewolf that bit me.  And some things haven't changed."  Moony looked out at the Lake.  "I haven't ever had a period.  And I sort of stopped, er, _growing_ around Third Year.  In terms of other women things."  
  
Moony waited for Seren to say something.  Instead, she propped herself up and kissed her.  It was very light, sweet, and reassuring.  She wasn't sure if Seren meant it that way, but that's how it felt to her.  "It's hardly fair," Seren said, her right hand on Moony's bony hip.  "That you get to be a werewolf, and a witch... er?"    
  
"Yes, a witch."  
  
"A werewolf, a witch, and very attractive."  
  
"You know you're ridiculous, right?"  Relief.  And then, “Sometimes it’s hard to be all these things.  They don’t always fit.”

Seren didn’t know what to say to that, so she said, "Moony, I have to tell you a true thing, too."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"I sort of, er, _lied_ about the whole practice thing."  
  
Moony started laughing, although bit it off when Seren gave her a dark look.  "I think that was sort of obvious with Jane and Pris taking the piss on your attestations of knowing them bodily."  The highlight being when Jane asked Pads _What size bra do I wear?_ After a beat, _I thought you would know best.  Having known me bodily and all_.  Pris was referring her as her her "Ex."  
  
"I mean.  We've always been friends.  But when I saw you on the Platform in September it was something more.  It was fluttery and strange.  You were Moony.  But more than at the same time.  I wanted to snog you.  A lot.  But you had no former paramours to interrogate," That came off sounding like Moony was at fault and she snorted.  Only Pads.  "So I may have employed a stratagem."  
  
"Is this an apology or villainous monologue?"  
  
"You're a complete arse."  
  
"Sadly, Pads, I don't actually have one."  
  
"Is that why you won't, you don't let me see you?"  
  
"Yes.  It feels weird."  A hard swallow.  "You're really quite lovely.  It makes me feel a bit inadequate."  Moony was definitely blushing now.  She had not meant to say that.  
  
"Moony."  Seren punched her shoulder, but it only hurt her fingers.  "If you looked like me, we would probably hate each other.  A lot.  Evidence Reg."  
  
"I suppose we would freeze together."  
  
"True."  
  
"And I would have to be tiny."  
  
"But perfect, of course.  Me, not you-as-me."  They were both laughing.  Moony primarily at Pads, who was so self-assured.  Moony wished she could have at least a quarter of that herself.  “I think you’re lovely,” Pads said, a finger on the corner of Moony’s mouth.  "So do you want to come up and shag me?"  
  
Moony did.

 

 

**31**

When Moony came back to the Dorm after her first round of NEWTs, she found Pris on her knees by the side of her bed.  Praying.  In a huge plume of smoke.  That smelled like a poor imitation of strawberries.  It was rather foul, actually.  Prongs, who was always less tactful, had come in with her and immediately said, “What, in Merlin’s name, are you doing?”

“Hedging my bets,” Pris said through the corner of her mouth.  

“Non-verbals,” Moony said, moving to her bed and collapsing.  She was remarkably relaxed about the whole thing.  Perhaps the best part of being a dark creature.  If she didn't manage Outstandings, it only mattered to her ego.  And not the wizarding world.  

She was going to King’s in the Fall.  McGonagall had delivered the news - and the paperwork - the week before NEWTs.  And the week after the Full, so she had been a drippy - she was always more likely to fall ill immediately after - tea bloated mess.  “It’s a very good school,” McGonagall had said.  “I know you’ll do outstanding there.”  There was a moment when Moony was certain the Head would hug her.  But McGonagall had restrained herself to only handing over a tin of biscuits instead.  Chocolate.  “You’ll have to keep in touch, of course.”   _Of course_ .  “There’s a first year starting in September who is also a werewolf.  His parents are very anxious about the whole thing.  And I assured them that Hogwarts would always be a home for _everyone_ on the rolls.”

Somehow, through her Head of House wiles, McGonagall had secured Moony’s promise to visit with Ewan Culpepper over the Summer.   _It will be good for you, I think_.  Never far from their discussions lay the specter of Moony’s flight.  She was still working through things.  After discussing things with the Marauders - and the help of a Mind-Healer - she had started to find a mote of light in the struggle for understanding herself.  Until it came to having to have the discussion with her family.  She wasn’t ready for that, yet.

With a heavy sigh - and heavy limbs to match - Moony peeled herself off her bed and started to prepare for her trip into London.  John Halwends - Healer Halwends’ brother - had agreed to meet with her.  In a coffee shop not far from St Mungo’s.  She wasn’t sure what to wear.  School kit?  Or more casual?  In the end, she settled on the stiff pair of new denims, a short sleeved blouse, and the blazer Pads had gifted her.  The tangle of curls was a lost cause, and she pulled and released a corkscrew curl while deciding on whether to put on a tie or not.

Moony was just fixing her tie when Seren came into the room, immediately launching herself on her girlfriend.  “This was a tidy blouse, Pads.”

“I know ironing charms, you arse.”  As per usual, Pads’ skirt was so short that after they fell into a tangle of legs and torsos on Moony’s bed, her knickers and arse were on view.  She smelled of sweat - it was rather warm - and shampoo.  

“How was Divination?”

“I foresaw my future before me.  At the Quidditch World Cup qualifiers with Prongs flying for England.  We’ll have a booth, _of course_ , and I was on your lap,” Seren’s smile was absolutely naughty.  “And I suppose that Evans and Prisry,” she had taken to calling Pris that after she and Henry Corner had formally gotten engaged, “will be there.”

“And yet this future Pads will still be on my lap.”

“Moony, I have _no shame_.”  

“That’s clear enough.”

“Are you nervous about going to London?”  Seren had manage to thread her fingers into Moony’s, using the pad of her thumb to trace patterns on her palm and wrist.  She liked to trace a scar there.  

“A little.”  They had been discussing the concept of _full honesty_.  This was something that Seren was particularly good at - at least with the Marauders - and Moony was particularly bad at.  Full honesty made her uncomfortable.  It made her chafe.

But sometimes it made her feel like a weight was lifting off her chest.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?”  Seren had been wheedling for an invite from the moment Moony had told her about it.  She wanted to come, rather desperately it turned out, for reasons that Moony didn’t completely understand.

“I’ll be alright, dervish,” Moony distracted Pads by scruffiness her hair - _you fell thing!_ \- and then extricate herself from beneath her girlfriend.  

“Will you get me a present at least?”  Moony’s eyebrows rose.

“I’m going to visit a werewolf and you want a present?”

“ _Of course_.”  Pads had shifted so that she was still lying on the bed, but her legs were spread into a very unladylike vee.  To the effect that her skirt had pleated at her waist and her white knickers were completely on view, the shadow of her sex hinted at.  

Moony’s eyebrow went up on it’s own volition.  Muscle memory after being in proximity to Pads for too long.  “And, pray tell, do you want?”

Seren snorted.  “You are the _worst_ girlfriend.”  By which she meant best, but probably didn’t know the word outside of the world of anything she did herself.  “I think I’m going to have to loan you some of my Witch Weeklies.  So you can see what sorts of things a beautiful girl - “ she pointed to herself as if there was any doubt to whom she was referring to, “would want.”

“And they’ll tell me that I should get this paragon a motorbike?”

“Oooh…”. Pads had been talking about a motorbike for ages.  Moony was just grateful that Alphard had Seren’s funds tied for another month or so yet.  

“Or…”. With a care to her knees - Moony knew how deplorable their floor was with three untidy girls - she dropped to the floor and put her left hand on the smooth muscle of Seren’s right thigh.  She immediately had Seren’s complete attention.  She could hear it.  And smell it.  She used her right hand to peel down - but not off - the elastic of Pads’ knickers and then tongued the cleft of Seren’s slit.  Pads reflexively squeezed her thighs closed, which was why Moony had her hand on Seren’s thigh.  Once she had unclenched, Moony used just enough pressure to not tickle but stroke Seren until she was pulsing the Morse of her pleasure.  With a snap and a smile, Moony replaced Seren's knickers.  “Well, I’m off then.”

“You are unconscionable.”  Seren said, although her smile belied the pronouncement.  

“Yes, probably.  Although it’s more likely that you’re just incorrigible.”  Pads made no move toward relinquishing her place on Moony’s bed, legs having melted down to hanging off the edge though.  

“We can’t help what we are, Moony.”

“But you can sure as Azkaban get behind the curtains you slags!”  Prongs said from the doorway.  “Don’t we have a rule?”  In fact they did.  Several in fact.  All tacked up to the inside of their door.  Number One was: _No fornicationary activities in the open._  This only pertained to Seren and Moony as neither Prongs nor Pris were able to bring their paramours up to the Tower.  Enacted after Pris walked in on the two of them in a very compromising position.   _Very_.

Something about Pads - well, _everything_ about Pads - made Moony’s brain swimmy.  And susceptible to bouts of madness.

It was at this juncture that Moony thought it politic to make her exit.

 

**32**

Moony was aware of John Halwends about four blocks before she reached the coffee shop.  He smelled of musk and something else.  It made the hairs on her arms go up.  

John was with his brother, Ossian, near the window.  He looked up the instant she walked into the shop.  He offered up a rather forced smile.  “Lupin,” Healer Halwends greeted.  “I’m so glad you were able to make it.”

“Of course.”  The two werewolves eyed each other somewhat warily.  Halwends was a large man, a bit over two meters if she were to guess, and had a beard threaded with silver.  He didn’t look very old otherwise.  No more than a decade older than herself.  

The Healer looked on anxiously as Moony and John sized each other up.  Moony felt weird.  And slightly _aggressive_?  It was a queer feeling that she’d not expected.  Having never felt it before.  Her body pulled upwards, almost trying to make itself seem larger, and Halwends’ pulled back a bit.  Something had been decided then, as John extended his hand and Moony took it.  “You smell like magic,” he said, gruffly, as they shook and released.  The Healer visibly relaxed.

“I just came from Hogwarts, so perhaps that’s it?”

“So they let you go, then?  A werewolf.”  There was a thread of rancor in his tone, not unwarranted and not focused on Moony herself, as he said the words.  It was probable that he had not gone.  The rules had not relaxed before 1964 after all.  If he was a decade older, he would have gone straight to Fair Isle.

“Yes.  But I suppose they had to.  My parents wouldn’t have allowed anything else.”

“Powerful wizards are they?”

“No.  Just munitions traders.”  It was an off-the-cuff comment that John apparently got as it broke the ice immediately.  “That’s not even the half of it,” Moony bemoaned.

“Do they accept you?”

“My friends, yes.  But very few know that I’m a werewolf.  I’m on the Registry, but the records are locked until July.  I suppose I’ll find out then won’t I?”

“I suppose you will.”  They fell into polite conversation, with Ossian - the Healer had asked that she use his first name - adding patient vignettes.  After the frisson breaking, it was actually quite pleasant.  Surreal and somewhat freeing to just talk about what she was.  What she would always be.  With someone who was the same.

They ate a fortune’s worth of pastries between the two of them.

Towards the end of it, John said, “I’m taking correspondence courses.”  He added quietly, “To learn how to use magic.”

“That’s wonderful.”  And she meant it.  

“Yes, I’ve a place in Birmingham.  Where I live.”  He had mentioned it earlier.  He had been working in construction for years.  Quite successfully if Ossian’s boasting was to be believed.  “If you’d like… you could visit at some point.”

Thinking she’d read it wrong - was this some sort of a date? - Moony’s face colored.  “I--”

“Not like that.  I would never presume.”  And then rather quietly he said, “I could smell your girl on you.”  

“Oh, um…”

“No, I meant that you’re not like the others I’ve met.  Almost all of us were at Fair Isle.”  He said it with feeling.  Sadness.  “And we - I - sometimes have trouble being… well … human, right?”

Moony completely understood.  A werewolf was a werewolf all the time.  And not just during the full moons.

 

**33**

“Don’t be nervous,” Moony said, her larger hand enveloping Seren’s smaller one.  “You’ve met my parents before.  They’re completely harmless.  Also, if you cling to me like this they’re going to immediately know that I know you in the biblical sense.”

“The biblical sense?”  Moony gave Seren a meaningful look.  “Oh, _oh_.  Like that.”  As Seren had no shame, they were thigh to thigh on the worn wood of the kitchen bench.  The possibility of arse splinters real as Seren’s skirts - not unsurprisingly - were immune to any sort of lengthening charm.  Moony had tried.  She really had.

Mum - well everyone really - took to Seren rather well.  She was tiny and sweet - when she could be arsed to do so - and very pretty.   _Beautiful_ , even.  She was in Moony’s favorite short swing dress.  Dark blue and floral patterned.  In her platform heels, despite the warning about oh, hills and geological rock outcroppings and the like.  

Revelations aside, Moony thought it was best to parcel these things out.  After all, there had been some time between becoming a werewolf and becoming a witch.  And then falling in love with a girl.  So Moony thought that possibly in, oh, about seven years or so she might bring up other things.  When she had sorted them out herself.  And emphatically _not_ over Easter dinner.

Moony only went into the Cupboard Loo once.  For it’s intended purpose.

But it was nice to know it was there.  Would always be there.  Just in case she needed it.  


End file.
